


The Magic Lute

by solstice_sweetheart



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Humor, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, potential polyamory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29417181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solstice_sweetheart/pseuds/solstice_sweetheart
Summary: When Vilkas agrees to help an aspiring bard retrieve King Olaf’s lost verse, he expects that it will be an easy job that will get the annoying Imperial out his hair. However, Valentina has another job for him that will keep the Companion on his toes, and take him and his twin, Farkas, across all of Skyrim. Between their adventure and discovering the purpose of an enchanted lute found in Olaf's tomb, the trio have their work cut out for them, provided Vilkas can keep his sanity.This story starts off with the Bards College quest “Tending the Flames” and then jumps into an original questline. It’s a (kind of) crackfic, so expect some poops and giggles along the way.
Relationships: Farkas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Imperial Character/Original Male Altmer Character, Vilkas (Elder Scrolls)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 15





	1. A Bard Walks into a Dungeon

**Author's Note:**

> The following story is also crossposted at fanfiction.net under the same username (SolsticeSweetheart). If you've come across it there, not to worry! It's still me.
> 
> This is before the main quest/before the Companions want to rid themselves of the blood, but during the civil war. In other words, I won't be re-writing the main quest or delving too much into the Companions' lycanthropy. 
> 
> I also want to take a moment to give a huge thank you to the wonderful [PoeticAnt44](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoeticAnt44/pseuds/PoeticAnt44). Thank you for your keen eyes, the laughs we share, and for dealing with my insanity.
> 
> All lyrics/musical theory in here are meant for fun; I'm rusty on both, but I thought they would be fun touches to add! 
> 
> As always, comments are welcome! Enjoy!

" _Companions! Compaaaaanions!_ " a voice bellowed from behind the door of Jorrvaskr.

Vilkas pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a groan. _Ignore it. If you ignore it, it will go away_ , he thought, still eying the shaking wooden door. Everything stilled for a moment, and Vilkas was sure he avoided the problem, until the banging on the door resumed. It grew louder and more insistent. _What a persistent woman_ , he grumbled, pouring himself some ale. _Maybe if I drink it will drown out the screeching._

His twin, Farkas, appeared out of nowhere, looking at the door. Vilkas had no qualms about keeping the pesky woman out. Farkas, however, was always the softer of the two of them. He was always compelled to do what was right, even if it was at the expense of Vilkas' sanity.

" _Compaaaaaaaaanions_!" the voice called out again.

Farkas' face dropped, guilty for not answering the door.

"Oh no, don't you dare let her in!" Vilkas snapped at his twin, trying to keep his voice soft so that the woman wouldn't hear them.

"She needs our help," Farkas said.

"She always needs our help! Last week, she thought someone performed the Black Sacrament."

"Well, was it?"

"No, for fuck's sake. Someone dumped waste in front of the inn that had chicken bones, and she lost her shit. She lost her shit over _chicken bones_."

"I mean, she's had reasons to come to us before that were good, right?"

Vilkas glared at his brother. "Last week, she accused a skeever of stealing her favorite bracelet. And the week _before_ that, she sought us because she was scared of the spiders in her room at the inn." Vilkas moved his fingers to show a pinch, and Farkas squinted. "That's how big they were! And the worst part? She owes us at _least_ a thousand Septims!""

"Wait, she didn't pay us for the last jobs?" Farkas asked.

"You know what she left us? A parchment with an I.O.U! _That_ was our payment!"

"You guys know there's a back door I can use, _riiiiight_?" the woman called from outside.

"Shut up! You're not getting in!" Vilkas barked.

"But what if it's important this time?" Farkas asked.

Vilkas sighed. He hated to admit his brother was right. If there really was something wrong, it was his duty as a Companion to investigate the matter. He let out another sigh and opened the door, knowing he was going to regret it.

The woman was a tiny thing, barely reaching up to his chest, with a mop of messy black hair and bright green eyes. She had youthful features, and he guessed she couldn't be older than twenty-two, maybe twenty-three. He always assumed she was an Imperial because of her olive complexion, though he never cared enough to ask her. The short woman had been a thorn in his side since she first arrived in Whiterun.

Vilkas scowled at her, and she returned it with a beaming grin. He was already annoyed, yet he had no one to blame but himself. Despite his better judgment, he allowed her to enter the mead hall. All he could do was deal with whatever problem she had and send her off.

"Thank you for letting me in," she said, her voice grating against his eardrums like a fork scraping against a plate.

"You had better make this quick, woman," Vilkas hissed.

"How you hurt me with your short temper, Companion," the woman said, releasing a breathy and dramatic sigh. Vilkas glowered at her. The woman was nowhere close to being offended, not with the way her green eyes were sparkling with unbridled mischief.

If they were going to do this, Vilkas needed to be sitting down with some mead. Farkas joined him, likely curious to see the ensuing shit-show pan out.

After taking a deep breath, Vilkas said, "Alright, let's try this again. What brings you here…whatever your name is again."

"How many times do I have to remind you? It's Valentina Iantha Dravinius, but you can just call me Valentina, or Val. Most people do. _Aaaanyhow_ , I finally travelled to Solitude!" she said, pleased with herself.

"And you didn't stay there?"

"I wanted to. I was even going to join the Bards College! I mean, I tried and… _well_ , uh, I might have bitten off a little more than I can chew."

"What did you do this time?" Vilkas asked, repressing the urge to sigh again. He ignored Skjor snickering in the background. Vilkas wanted to scowl at him too, but the man had made himself scarce. _Lucky bastard_ , he swore.

"Not much—I think," she added, a little too hastily. "I promised to find King Olaf's Verse."

Vilkas spat out his mead. "You agreed to do _what_?"

"But you're supposed to be a bard. Don't they want you to sing or something?" Farkas asked, scratching his head.

Valentina shrugged. "Beats me how finding a verse correlates to my performing skills. But you see? That's why you _have_ to help me. If I don't go, I'm going to get mauled by draugr."

"And that's a bad thing, why?" Vilkas grumbled.

Valentina huffed before answering, "You know, I'd usually agree with you there, handsome, but I've got things to live for. It's been a solid year since I've gotten laid, and I'm not dying until I've at least had some mind-blowing sex. Last guy…urgh. Terrible. I might as well have gotten fucked by a carrot. Would have been…"

"That is _too much_ information," Vilkas groaned, his exasperation growing with the aspiring bard's words.

"The point is, if I get laid, then the draugr can take me for all I care. But I gotta stay alive for that to happen."

" _That_ is your only reason?"

"No motivation to stay alive is wrong. So, are you gonna help me or what?"

"I don't see why I should help you. You still owe me over a thousand Septims and…"

"Right, well, about that," the Imperial woman said, flashing him a dazzling smile. "I'd like to think this is a win-win situation, Companion. You see, I'm not interested in the gold from the tomb. I just want the verse so I can get into the college. Let's say you pocket all the gold and treasure along the way, and we call it even for all the times I've called on you. Oh, and there's the added bonus that I'll be moving to Solitude once I'm admitted, so you'll never see me again. What do you say to that?"

The woman drove a hard bargain. Gold and the prospect of never enduring her presence again were motivation enough. _But is it worth me going into a tomb and encountering a bunch of draugr with her?_ he wondered. He had a terrible image of her shrieking at the draugr the entire time. _If she's this annoying while she's not scared, imagine when she is_. He shuddered at the prospect.

Valentina cocked her head and added, "I won't talk to you unless it's necessary."

Now _that_ is what he liked hearing.

***

The first half hour to Hjaalmarch was peaceful. Much to Vilkas' surprise, Valentina was true to her word. She remained quiet on her horse, sometimes humming a tune underneath her breath. _If only she would stay like this throughout this entire job._ Vilkas questioned whether he should just tell her to wait outside the tomb while he retrieved the verse himself. It would be less stressful than dealing with her while they were inside. _No, if she can behave herself like this, then we just might make it out of there in one piece._

"So, Companion, I have an important question that I've been dying to know since the moment I walked into Jorrvaskr," the Imperial said.

"I thought we agreed you would be quiet."

"But it's important."

Vilkas didn't have to look at her to imagine that she was pouting at him. He rolled his eyes and asked, "Alright. What is it?"

"Is your brother single?"

That question stopped Vilkas cold in his tracks. He turned behind to see the aspiring bard. That was her important question? Evidently, she was sincere. Valentina waited for an answer, patient as ever.

"Where are your priorities, woman? You're risking your life to retrieve a long-lost verse and your most important question is whether Farkas is single?" Vilkas demanded.

"I'm trying to find things to look forward to once I retrieve the verse, but that doesn't answer the question."

Vilkas scoffed. "Not for the likes of you."

"Oh, really? What does that mean?"

"It means I know my brother's taste. He prefers his women to be less annoying."

If this daunted her at all, she didn't show it. Instead, the Imperial smiled at him, and said, "Annoying is a matter of opinion. I've been told I'm quite charming when I want to be. We can't all be silent and stoic like you, broody brows. However, I think I could win him over if he gave me a chance. What do you think it would take for him to notice me? Does he prefer sonnets or ballads? Or should I just opt for…"

"Enough! Farkas wouldn't give you a second glance, and that's final!" Vilkas snapped, and focused on the road ahead of them.

A moment of silence passed. Vilkas was sure that was the end of the conversation, until he heard her mutter, "Gods, you need to get laid."

By the time he turned back to glare at her, the Imperial was the picture of innocence. She blinked at him, tilted her head and asked, "Yes?" He scowled at her, let out a sigh of exasperation, and returned to focusing on the journey. There was no point in asking her if she had said something. She would probably deny it.

It would figure that Valentina would be curious about his brother. If the woman was as sex-starved as she made herself out to be, any man would do the trick. _Ysmir's beard! She better not get any ideas about me_ , he thought, and shuddered.

Valentina wouldn't be alone in such licentiousness. Many of the bards that Vilkas met might have been talented, but most were lechers. They didn't care about glory or preserving the legacy of old heroes. Most bards wanted was to find the most attractive thing that moved and fuck it. If Vilkas had to guess, this Imperial was no exception—wait! Did the woman even have talent? Who was to say that the Bards College didn't send her on a fool's errand just to rid themselves of her?

Then there was her barb about him needing to get laid. _I need to get laid_ , he scoffed. _If I want to, I can bed a woman that pleases me whenever I want._ Then he thought about it. When was the last time he had been with a woman anyhow? Was it two weeks ago? A month? Longer? No, that couldn't be, although it made sense. With the ongoing civil war, the Jarls called upon the Companions to deal with Skyrim's growing bandit problem. It wasn't the glorious work he wanted, but it brought gold in. Still, it left him tired, if not a little frustrated.

They continued along their path in silence and reached Dead Men's Respite by mid-afternoon. Vilkas had his fair share of experience with tombs, though it had been at least a few months since he set foot in one. He forgot how imposing the outside of the tombs were with their gigantic stone structures. As he dismounted from his horse, the familiar crackle of excitement coursed through his veins. There was always something electrifying about visiting tombs and, if he had to be honest, recovering King Olaf's verse wasn't the worst use of his time. If he and Valentina were successful, they would be retrieving a forgotten part of Skyrim's history.

Valentina jumped off her horse and approached the large door. Before she could get any further, Vilkas grabbed her by the shoulder and said, "Hold up. We need to get a couple of things clear before we walk in there."

"Do I still have to be quiet?" she asked.

"Yes, and not just because I can't stand the sound of your voice. There are probably spiders, skeevers, and draugr crawling all over the place. We need to be cautious. There's no being foolhardy and wandering into traps. We take our time and we're careful, are we clear?"

"Crystal," she said, nodding.

"Good. Now, do you have any experience with any sort of weapons?" he asked.

"I've got this," Valentina answered, pulling out an iron dagger. "I learned how to wield it while I was in Riften."

"You mean to tell me you're putting yourself in danger to get into the college, and all you brought is a dagger?" Vilkas sighed. This was bad. This was very bad. "Alright, do you at least know any spells?"

"Just an apprentice-levelled illusion spell, and how to get a magelight going. Nothing much."

It was even worse than the Companion assumed it would be. Valentina had little combat experience or magic to help him. It would figure that she wouldn't have thought of packing armor either. Vilkas groaned and unpacked basic leather armor from his supplies.

"You want me to wear that?" Valentina asked.

"Aye. This is the only way you'll survive."

"Will you help me put my armor on?" she asked, batting her eyelashes.

"No. This is your adventure, so you're going to learn how to do it yourself."

"Fine. If you insist."

And so he watched as the Imperial woman struggled to get the armor on. A tic developed in Vilkas' eyes as Valentina twisted and turned in the armor. It took everything inside of him not to bang his head against the stone walls of the tomb—and Shor's balls! They hadn't even entered yet! _Great, this is going to be a babysitting job. So much for the glorious task of retrieving the verse._ Unable to handle the sight of her struggling any longer, Vilkas helped the Imperial get the armor on.

"Thank you," she said, giving him a grateful smile.

"Next time, you're on your own," he warned.

"There won't be a next time because I'll be a bard by then. So, what do you say? Do we go in and retrieve that verse?"

"Aye. Let me go first."

"I believe the expression is 'ladies first.'"

Vilkas pinched the bridge of his nose. "Fine, ladies first."

The Imperial gave him a toothy grin and pushed the large doors open. It wasn't much of a risk to have her go first. The first chamber in a tomb was always quiet, and low risk. Nothing would go wrong if he was right behind her.

Vilkas felt confident in his decision as he trailed right behind her until they saw the ghost of a man holding a lute. Valentina let out a piercing shriek that reverberated in the chamber, piercing the Companion's eardrum. By the time he recovered from the awful sound, Valentina's eyes rolled in the back of her head and she passed out, leaving Vilkas to wonder why he bothered agreeing to the job. Wait, did that ghost just grin at him?

The Companion bent down to the ground and shook the aspiring bard.

"Hey Imperial. Wake up," he said, shaking her.

The Imperial's eyes fluttered open. She blinked, and Vilkas assumed that she was trying to refocus her eyes on her surroundings. Vilkas reached into his satchel and found a minor healing potion. _We've been here for less than five minutes, and I already need to use one of these. I hope I packed enough for this_ , he thought, handing the vial to Valentina. The woman propped herself up and accepted the potion, taking a swig.

"The ghost is still here," Vilkas said. The ghost waved at them. Vilkas sensed the woman was about to let out another screech and put her hand on her mouth. "Don't. This ghost hasn't attacked us, and you can't start making a scene at every little thing. You'll wake up the dead."

Valentina peered behind Vilkas to gawk at the ghost, and he was sure that the Imperial was paler than the apparition that stood before them. Despite the obvious fear written on her face, she cleared her throat and asked, "Svaknir?"

The ghost nodded in acknowledgment and vanished behind a gated door. Vilkas' eyes widened in surprise. Svaknir was a bard who lived during King Olaf's reign and wrote a scathing verse about the king's capture of the dragon, Numinex. Everything Vilkas read suggested that the king was furious enough to put the bard to death and burned all the copies of the verse with him. Was it possible that the bard's ghost lived on and was offering them help?

Valentina stood up and dusted the rubble off of her armor. "I guess we _have_ to follow the ghost. Is there anything around the room that unlocks this door?"

Vilkas and Valentina's gazes both fell onto the object on an altar in the middle of the room. They approached it with caution. It was a dragon-shaped claw encrusted with rubies, probably worth more than anything else they would find in the tomb. The Companion worried that this was some sort of trap. No fool would leave such a valuable object front and center.

"I think we found our solution," Valentina observed, reaching out for the claw.

Vilkas grabbed her hand before she could touch it. "Think about this before you act. We don't know if this will set off arrows, or even fire."

"But I see nothing else around this room that qualifies as a key. We've already seen a ghost. What's the worst that can happen?"

"Fine. Grab it at your own risk. All I'm saying is that if you pass out again…"

Vilkas never had time to finish his sentence. Valentina grabbed the claw, a satisfied smirk spreading over her face as the gated door opened. The claw didn't just open the door. Something groaned nearby, and Vilkas spun around to see draugr awakening from their slumber.

The smugness on Valentina's face vanished as she noticed the draugr skulked towards them. The aspiring bard froze, gawking at the undead that charged at her with its blade. Vilkas growled and stepped in front of her, blocking the attack with the pommel of his sword. He made quick work of the draugr, disarming and stabbing the first, slicing the second through its belly, and plunging the blade into the last one's chest. He didn't break a sweat, but he wasn't fooled. There was no telling just how strong the undead would be as they continued along the tomb.

"So these are the infamous draugr everyone keeps talking about," Valentina said, letting out a shaky laugh.

Vilkas rolled his eyes and looted the draugr, all the while the bard stared wide-eyed at him. What was she expecting in a tomb? Butterflies? He warned her that there would be draugr. It wasn't his fault that she didn't listen.

"Let's keep moving," Vilkas said, choosing to ignore her comments. "And next time, could you remember that you have a dagger on you?"

"Are daggers any use against the undead?"

"Anything can be used against the undead as a weapon if you don't cower. I'm going to walk through the door first. Stay behind me and keep your blade in your hand."

"Fine. After you, Companion."

Vilkas walked ahead of her, following Svaknir's ghost down stone steps. Despite his heavy armor, Vilkas kept his footsteps light, and Valentina did the same. The quieter they were, the less attention they would draw. The ghost then vanished behind a slab of rock, and Vilkas spotted a chain.

"There are more draugr in there," Vilkas warned.

"Oh, great. That's what I signed up for. Undead bodies, lunging at me with their rotting…"

"This is exactly what you signed up for. Stay quiet, keep your dagger out, and follow my lead," Vilkas ordered.

"Alright. Alright. As you command," Valentina said, bowing her head.

Vilkas pulled the chain, revealing a burial chamber. Svaknir walked past the dead bodies with no problem, but the Companion knew better than to assume they would have the same luck. He turned to Valentina, pressing a finger to his lips and making a shushing sound. For once, she didn't argue with him.

Vilkas noticed the way the aspiring bard's eyes took in all of her surroundings while they crept in the burial chamber. _She must be uncomfortable_ , Vilkas observed. If Farkas were with him, he would tell his twin to be patient, and remind him that the bard didn't have the experience they did. Farkas was the sympathetic one. He would know how to deal with the Imperial's nervousness. Vilkas almost felt a little guilty—almost.

They were fortunate that nothing moved or stirred. It gave Vilkas a chance to pocket more gold. Vilkas opened an urn, spotting an amethyst ring. _Now this will fetch a pretty Septim_ , he thought. The Imperial twitcher her nose, repulsed by the sight, and he glowered at her.

"Don't look so disgusted. How else did you think I would get gold?" Vilkas asked, proceeding further into the ancient tomb.

"Treasure chests? Anything but graverobbing?" Valentina said, walking alongside him.

"And what are we doing in retrieving a lost verse?"

"Hmm. Point taken. Alright, so what's next? Giant spiders?"

Vilkas spotted the Frostbite spiders before the Imperial could.

"Yes. Huge."

Valentina's eyes widened. "Tell me you're shitting me."

"Look ahead."

Valentina poked her head at the threshold. Her body shook backwards, but she didn't scream. Instead, she turned back to Vilkas, all color drained from her face. For a brief second, he asked whether this was too much for her to handle.

"They're resting," she noted, her voice steady.

"Aye."

"Do you think we can sneak past them?"

"Maybe, but we risk them hearing us later and coming after us."

Valentina shook her head and took a deep breath. "Okay."

The Imperial grabbed her dagger out of its sheath and crouched low. Instead of barking out a word of caution or an order, he held back and watched Valentina. Her footsteps were light, an impressive feat considering that she wasn't used to wearing armor. The Imperial brought the blade into the spider's back, and the thing let out a screech before going slack. The other spider stirred and the aspiring bard flinched, dropping the dagger. Vilkas stepped in and swiped his blade at the spider, instantly killing it.

"Huh. So you know how to wield a dagger after all," Vilkas said as Valentina retrieved her blade. "And you can sneak around."

"I do what I have to," Valentina answered, flashing him a sweet grin, all the while collecting poison from the spiders. The putrid scent hit both of them, and Valentina's face scrunched up in disgust before she pulled away. "Anyway, awful, revolting, and nauseating scent aside, you almost sound impressed."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. All that means is that you won't die as easily as I thought you would," Vilkas scoffed.

"You're definitely impressed. You just don't know it yet," she said, winking at him before walking ahead.

He rolled his eyes and followed behind her in case she got herself into any trouble.

They continued along the tomb, fighting off more draugr and spiders as they went. Although Vilkas did most of the legwork, Valentina wasn't completely useless. To her limited credit, she was able to stab a few draugr here and there. She was still inept, just not as inept as he thought she was. He wasn't impressed. Anyone could sneak around and wield a dagger like a common thief or cutpurse.

Several fallen draugr and a handful of annoying skeevers later, the pair found a large wooden door. It had a vibrant purple glow, and Vilkas suspected that there would be no use trying to open it. For once, Valentina didn't think of sticking her hand on it.

"Something huge must be behind there. I wonder what. Maybe treasure. Imagine a nice new sapphire necklace. That would be lovely," Valentina sighed.

"Don't start thinking about your jewelry just yet. There's a set of stairs there, and more draugr to fight off. Also, who said you'd get any of the gold or jewelry at the end of this?"

Valentina laughed. "Gods, Companion. If only you knew just how endearing you are. You don't have to _give_ me any of the treasure, you know that."

Vilkas didn't like how that sounded, though he didn't question it. They said little else, making their way down the steps and fighting off more draugr as they went deeper into the tomb. Vilkas grabbed whatever gold he could, his satchel growing heavier with each coin he added. The whole venture was proving more lucrative than he thought. One thing he would give the bard credit for was that she didn't complain as he grabbed the gold for himself. Not that she should have, anyway. She owed him.

Across the hallway was a large iron door. Vilkas tugged at the handle, but it didn't budge. He grabbed a lockpick from his supplies. This piqued Valentina's interest, and she hovered over him as he put the lockpick into the lock. She said nothing, but observed him with the utmost curiosity. When he thought he had the correct position, he turned the tension wrench. The Nord swore when the lockpick broke on him. He tried it several more times, his frustration rising with each failed attempt.

"When were you planning on asking me for help?" Valentina asked.

Vilkas turned his head towards her. "I'm down to ten picks, and we might need them for something else. Better we don't fiddle around with them anymore than we need to."

Truth be told, Vilkas didn't think she could pull it off. The woman could sneak around and stab things well enough, but what did a wannabe bard know about lockpicking? She ignored him, grabbing the lockpick and tension wrench from his hands. The Companion protested, telling her that she would waste time that they could use to continue exploring the tomb.

Valentina was careful with the lockpick, concentrating on finding the tumbler. She hummed something underneath her breath, relaxed despite the circumstances. Vilkas was surprised when he heard a "click." She had a huge shit-eating grin that spanned ear to ear.

'Ysmir's beard! How did you…"

"Trade secrets. Thank you for the ring, by the way. It's ample payment for my skills," she said.

Valentina flashed an amethyst ring on her finger before she walked through the unlocked door. _Is that the same one I took earlier?_ Vilkas rummaged through his satchel, searching for the ring. When he couldn't find it, he concluded that the Imperial took it.

"Hand back the ring, woman!" he growled.

"In a second. I'm trying to get this chest open," she said.

Vilkas poked his head behind her shoulder as she used her deft hands to make quick work of the lock. A minute or two later, Vilkas heard the telltale "click" of a picked lock, and Valentina swung the chest open.

Amidst some gold was a lute with flowers carved into the wood. It was a fine instrument, although its presence confused Vilkas. Was it that expensive, or was it enchanted? Worse, what if it was cursed?

"Oh, Companion! Look at this! It's so beautiful!" Valentina gushed, snatching the lute out of the chest while the Nord protested. She eyed it lovingly, running her hands down the strings. Vilkas grabbed the lute out of her hands before she could strum and raised it above her head. The Imperial jumped for it, but she was too short to reach.

"Hey! Hand it back!" Valentina snapped, still trying to grab the instrument out of his hands.

"Not until you listen to me first. No one leaves a lute locked in a chest without a reason," Vilkas said.

"It could be expensive, or important, or both."

"Or it's cursed. Either way, we should be careful."

"At least let me hold on to it. I won't strum it, at least not until the headmaster examines it once we get back to Solitude."

It was the most sensible thing she said the entire day, so he handed her the lute. Much to his surprise, she flung it behind her back, and did little more with it than that. Maybe he had underestimated her a bit. The Imperial was still annoying, and no amount of rational thinking would change how Vilkas felt about that.

The next room they entered had a trapdoor at the centre of the room. Vilkas and Valentina approached the trapdoor, revealing a staircase underneath it. The Imperial nudged him, pointing to a chain on the wall.

He shook his head. The tomb might have seemed quiet to the Imperial, but Vilkas knew better. If he strained his ear, he detected the sounds of footsteps shuffling the stone floor, and the low grunts of the undead. Pulling the chain might alert the draugr to their presence and swarm them all at once.

"Draugr," he whispered. "Sneak up on one."

"But it might kill me!"

"Godsdamn it, woman! Nothing has killed you so far!" he scolded, keeping his voice low.

Valentina's palm glowed with a green light that spread throughout her body. Vilkas narrowed his eyes, confused. She started moving, her footsteps lighter than before. _So that's the illusion spell she knows_ , he remarked, watching her sneak through the doorway. Vilkas heard a "thud" and then a growl.

"You didn't mention there were two!" Valentina called out.

The two gated doors opened, and out poured several more draugr. The situation was not ideal, but it was nothing that he couldn't handle on his own. Valentina could handle a single draugr, and he would take care of the rest. Draugr were a tenacious lot, and a few of them nicked his armor. This didn't faze Vilkas. He sliced through the draugr as though they were made of paper. The blood spattered on his blade and armor, making for an altogether gruesome scene.

Valentina emerged from the room, her dark hair disheveled, and her lip bloodied. She appeared not to notice any of the gore, or the bodies sprawled around him. Instead, she glared at him as she approached him.

"Where were you? I almost died in there and…" Valentina stopped as she heard a crunch beneath her feet. She almost stumbled backwards, taking in all the dead draugr that surrounded Vilkas. "Oh. Oh, okay. I see you were busy."

"No thanks to you," he reminded her, not liking her attitude.

"That's not fair! That one draugr nearly had my head!'

"Just yank on the chain so we can go down those stairs," Vilkas grumbled.

Valentina pulled the chain, opening the trap door and giving them access to the staircase. The Imperial woman went first, the Nord trailing behind her with his sword drawn.

The Companion shouldn't have been so resentful that he had to do most of the heavy work, yet he found himself annoyed. It would have been one thing if he undertook this mission alone, and it was another to have an incompetent partner. Then she had the nerve to get upset at him when he wasn't there to help her out with a single, measly draugr.

Why the Imperial ever agreed to retrieve some lost verse in the bowels of a Nordic tomb boggled Vilkas' mind. She should have demanded that the college admit her the way they would for any other applicant—testing out their skills and not sending them towards their grave. If the college had done that, he wouldn't be in this regretful position.

Hold on. Why did he agree to go on this adventure anyhow? The gold? Not worth it. It was nothing he wouldn't have been able to make up within a few days of clearing out several bandit camps. The glory? Twice as worthless. For all they knew, Svaknir's ghost would corner them and try to murder them before they retrieved Olaf's verse.

Vilkas was sure they fell into a trap when they hit a dead end at the end of the staircase. He was ready to rip into the bard and reproach her for her. All of his rage died down when she pulled a switch, revealing a corpse holding a verse, and Svaknir's smiling ghost right next to it.

"By Talos…" Vilkas started.

"It's the lost verse!" Valentina exclaimed, grabbing it from Svaknir's corpse. She gazed at the verse in wonder, running a finger along the spine. "I didn't think we would make it this far, or that it was real."

The woman turned to the ghost and flashed him a grateful grin. "Thank you for all of your help. Though I won't lie, I'm very much terrified at your appearance, bard."

Vilkas swore he heard laughter in the small room, although the ghost didn't linger long. He stood up and signaled for the pair to follow him. Vilkas and Valentina shared a hesitant glance.

"It looks like he needs us for something," Valentina observed.

"We did what we were meant to do. We're best going back to Solitude and handing this verse to the Bards College," Vilkas answered. When Valentina frowned, he elaborated, "What happens if we encounter a draugr deathlord, or worse? I might fend it off, but how will you do it? Aren't you the one who said she wanted to live so she could join the college? Let's drop this and get back to Solitude as quick as we can."

Vilkas expected some witty retort about how living would be a wonderful choice, or even some joke about how she needed to live to bed her next lover. None of that happened. It was the first time he ever saw the mischief extinguish from her face, replaced with something altogether more determined. The shift surprised him enough, though it was the next couple of sentences that stunned him.

"A true bard doesn't back down from an adventure, Companion. I may be ready to shit my breeches at any moment, but I'm not walking away from this tomb until we've helped Svaknir. He helped us get this far. We owe it to him to return the favor."

Valentina didn't wait for him to answer and climbed up the staircase to follow the dead bard. Vilkas blinked. Was this the same woman who fainted when they first encountered the ghost a couple of hours ago? The Companion chose not to question it, gaining a bit of grudging respect as he followed his charge up the stairs.

***

Svaknir led them to the sealed door, and Vilkas grimaced. _Watch him be able to go right through it and leave us behind like idiots._

"Can you remove the seal?" Valentina asked.

The ghost nodded, and a steady blue light grew in his hands. The Companion and the aspiring bard backed up as the light grew larger in the dead bard's palms. Svaknir flung the ball of magic towards the door, a gust of wind following it. The doors flung open, granting the ghost and his living companions passage through a corridor.

The end of the corridor revealed another sealed door with three rungs, and a strange lock that had a claw engraved on it. Svaknir passed through it, much to Vilkas' annoyance, leaving them to figure out how to get past the door. Vilkas moved the rungs, starting with the topmost and working his way down. Each time he moved a rung, it revealed a different animal.

"There must be a key around here somewhere, or some way to get the right combination of animals," Vilkas said.

He was about to search around the room when he saw Valentina's face light up. The Imperial found the ruby claw in her pack and squinted at it. She went like that for a couple of seconds, her mouth set in a tight line. Whatever she was trying to do wasn't working.

"Hold the claw. I want to see something," she said, propping the ruby claw in his palm.

"What are you trying to do?" he asked as the bard lit a magelight in her palm.

"The keyhole looks like it's in the shape of a claw," Valentina answered, squinting at the claw. "My bet is that the claw we found at the tomb's entrance is the key."

"That's sensible," Vilkas admitted, not without a bit of reluctance. "You think that the claw has the answer?"

"I'm sure of it. There are small animals engraved on this thing that match the ones in the door. Alright. I've got it. There's no way I can reach that top rung, so I'm going to tell you which animals to put, from the top to the bottom. When I'm done, try using the claw as a key."

"Aye," Vilkas said, and readied himself for her instructions.

"Wolf…good. Eagle…great…and…eagle!" Valentina said. Vilkas grinned and started twisting the key into the lock, when he heard Valentina call out. "Wait! I made a mistake! It's…"

It was too late. Vilkas twisted the key into the slot, causing a torrent of arrows to pour down on him. He avoided most of the onslaught by stepping back on time, although a few pierced through his armor.

"Oh shit! I'm so sorry!" Valentina exclaimed, trying to remove the arrows that poked out his armor. Vilkas pushed her away and gave her a searing stare, the type that most people told him made them recoil. She dropped her hands, a frown etched on her face.

"Just give me the correct solution so we can leave this godsforsaken tomb," he growled.

Valentina sighed. "Wolf, eagle, wolf."

Once he picked the arrows off of his armor, Vilkas fixed the last rung and pushed the claw back into the keyhole. The door shook and lowered, dust and rubble falling on both of their heads. The Imperial and the Nord wasted no time going down the newfound passage, seeing Svaknir's glowing form as they ran up a set of steps.

As befitting of a main burial chamber, the room was spacious. Along each side of the walls were the slumped figures of corpses and skeletons, each seated on a chair. At the very top of the room was a tomb. If he didn't know any better, the Companion could have sworn it looked like a royal court, with the large casket down over the other draugr. A chill ran down Vilkas' spine. He didn't like the look of it, and he sensed that those corpses would come to life at any minute.

"Stay right here," he told Valentina.

"Why? I can probably…"

"You've caused enough trouble for one day. The last thing I need is to carry your body and the lost verse back to Solitude."

"Fine," Valentina agreed. "I'll hide a bit further back so no one sees me."

"Good," he said, and Valentina lingered at the bottom of the staircase. Hopefully she was smart enough to keep herself scarce.

Vilkas made his way alongside Svaknir, who nodded to him. The ghost drew a sword from its sheath, and the Companion readied his weapon as well. If he was anything like the bards of old times, he knew how to wield his blade. He might even prove to be a better companion than the Imperial.

"Olaf! It is time!" the ghost boomed.

The room shook in response, and the undead stirred. _Olaf, as in King Olaf. Ysmir's beard, that's why there are so many of them._ Vilkas charged towards a draugr, slicing its head in one stroke. It was a short-lived victory as another one tried to stab him with his dagger. Vilkas deflected the attack at the right time, shoving the undead off of him, though another one took its place.

From the corner of his eye, the Companion noticed that the dead bard was having a similar struggle. Svaknir was overwhelmed by the amount of draugr that surrounded him, and couldn't fight all of them at once. With all the commotion, the dead bard was unsure of where to swing his sword first, leaving him vulnerable to the draugr's attacks. Vilkas reminded himself that though the bard's ghost would leave unscathed, he wouldn't, and he needed to kill the undead like the corpses they were.

Vilkas pushed more draugr off of him, trying to relieve Svaknir of taking on the brunt of the undead. It worked for a while, but more draugr surrounded him. Olaf hadn't just dragged the bard with him, but his whole damn court. One draugr disarmed him, resulting in Vilkas' sword tumbling to the ground. He wanted to scramble to retrieve it, but the draugr closed in on him.

"Vilkas!" Valentina screamed in the distance, but he paid no heed to the desperation in her voice.

The situation was hopeless. He would die in this tomb, and it wouldn't be Valentina's fault. This was his own doing. The Companion agreed to help her with her quest, just as he had come to her aid every time she called on him. The bard might have come to him with her requests, yet he put himself in this situation. At least he would have the honor of dying on a noble quest rather than fighting feckless bandits.

That was when he heard the strum of a lute, and a sonorous voice that accompanied it.

_Hear me now, you awful wights_

_Drop your arms, cease your fight._

_Let my friends end your lives_

_Accept that you will not survive._

Vilkas wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes. The draugr dropped their weapons, standing around as though they were hypnotized by the lute. Svaknir and Vilkas didn't waste a second grabbing their weapons, ending the draugr's lives with ease.

The lute's music became louder and clearer. The sound was coming from a couple of feet behind him. Vilkas turned to see Valentina, smiling and still strumming the lute. Her hands moved expertly along its neck, playing a tune that even Vilkas had to admit was lovely.

"Well done, lass. Play on," Svaknir said before he turned to the tomb and bellowed, "Arise, Olaf! My vengeance is at hand!"

More draugr emerged from their tombs, and Vilkas noticed that Valentina picked up the pace of her song, perhaps out of nerves. The aspiring bard didn't flinch as she observed the draugr emerging from their seats.

_And as you undead start to rise_

_You'll soon meet your true demise._

_For heroes win and truth prevails_

_To shine a light on Olaf's tale._

Valentina kept her voice steady and strong. Vilkas resumed his onslaught on the draugr with renewed vigor, the Imperial's music still ringing in his ears. He wouldn't admit it to her, but her lyrics emboldened him. They would survive this tomb, and they would return with Olaf's verse.

With all of Olaf's minions defeated, they ran towards the large casket at the center of the room. There was only one opponent left to defeat—King Olaf himself. For the first time in months, Vilkas felt the exhilaration of battle come back to him. This was more satisfying than taking down bandits, and more thrilling than roughing up some local braggarts for gold.

"Olaf!" the dead bard beckoned.

The casket shook, and a hand shot out of the opened lid, pushing it off. Out came a tall draugr wearing Ancient Nord armor. Valentina's song stopped with a jarring halt. Vilkas knew she was terrified at the sight of the undead king, and he saw her knuckles turn white as she clutched the lute closer to her.

"Insolent bard. Die!" King Olaf growled, lunging to attack the bard.

"Imperial! Try the lute again!" Vilkas shouted, before joining Svaknir in his attack.

Valentina cleared her throat and tried her hand at another song.

_Oh shit, I'm scared…uhhh_

_Drop dead, drop dead, drop dead_

_Just please crawl back to where you came from_

_Or drop dead._

_Fuck why isn't this working?_

_By Mara drop dead!_

_Vilkas, don't stare at me like that!_

_Shit! Look out! Behind you he's coming with his long pointy sword!_

_Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_

Thanks to Valentina's warning, Vilkas dodged Olaf's strike, but the draugr lost interest in him. Instead, it approached Valentina. The Imperial dropped the lute and grabbed her dagger, trying to put on a brave face. Vilkas rushed to get to her, but he was too late. She was no match for the dead king's Thu'um. The Companion saw her fly down the stairs and tumble down on the floor, unmoving.

"Valentina!" he screamed.

He wanted to rush to her side to see if she was still alive. Olaf had other plans, lunging at Vilkas to bring the blade towards his head, yet the Companion parried his strike. Svaknir joined Vilkas' attacks, trying to swipe his blade at the dead king. Olaf was just as skilled with a sword in death as he was in life and blocked Svaknir's attacks.

The ghost and the Companion weakened the king, though it wasn't quite enough to end the fight. Although the ghost was tireless, Vilkas felt the exhaustion in his bones. He wouldn't be able to keep up this fight much longer, even though Olaf was on his last leg. The Companion told himself that he had no choice but to pull through; he didn't want Valentina's bravery to go down in vain.

Svaknir and Vilkas continued to attack the king with little luck. It seemed that the king had the upper hand until Olaf released a sharp hiss of pain. He froze and tumbled down to his knees, revealing Valentina withdrawing her blade from his back. Svaknir delivered the final blow, decapitating the draugr and sending his head rolling down the steps.

"Shor's bones, you're alive!" Vilkas exclaimed.

Valentina flashed him a coy grin. "You can't get rid of me that easy, handsome."

Vilkas glared at her, but he didn't feel the annoyance he did before. More than anything, he was relieved that the woman was alive. He tossed her a healing potion and said, "Drink up. A fall like that's going to leave some bruises tomorrow."

"And not even the type I like," Valentina sighed, gulping down the potion.

Svaknir approached the Companion and his charge, a broad grin on his face.

"Many thanks to both of you. You've done me a great service in assisting me. Don't forget this," Svaknir said, handing Valentina the lute. "It's a powerful instrument. Take good care of it. Good luck on your adventures, bard."

A radiant yellow light beamed on Svaknir. He grinned, waving goodbye to them. Vilkas found himself a little sad to see the bard go, but he was reassured knowing that Svaknir's soul would be at rest.

"Wait! Come back! I don't understand what I'm supposed to do with this now, or how it worked before! Svaknir!" Valentina called out, and Vilkas laid a hand on your shoulder.

"He's gone to Sovngarde now. Let's loot this place and get out of here as soon as we can. I believe we have a verse to return to Solitude," Vilkas said.

Valentina nodded, though the disappointment on her face was clear. "Check Olaf's corpse. He may have the key to get out of here. I'll check to see if any of those draugr had anything valuable."

A small smile settled on Vilkas' face as the Imperial flipped over a draugr's body. He was debating if that shade of green on her face was because of the lighting in the tomb, or nausea. Valentina was no warrior, or mage, or even thief, but she was truly a bard at heart. Vilkas respected that.

It still didn't mean he had to like her.


	2. Tending the Flames

It was late by the time Vilkas and Valentina exited Dead Men's Respite. There was no point in travelling back to Solitude. They both needed their rest for their journey. The Nord and the Imperial set up camp, eager to relax after their adventure retrieving King Olaf's verse. After eating a well-earned meal and washing up in a nearby stream, Vilkas found the bard playing on her lute.

The Companion sat across from the fire, listening to the aspiring bard play. It was a soothing melody, and he felt his eyes grow heavy with sleep. The Imperial did have some talent after all. Vilkas yawned, willing himself to stay awake. There was no way that Valentina would take guard duty, so it would fall on him. He could get some rest once they were in Solitude.

"You play decently," he noted.

Valentina looked up at him, grinning. "I'd say I'm a little better than decent, but that's personal taste."

Vilkas snorted. It would figure that she would think so highly of herself. Her vaunting aside, he had a question about the lute that bothered him since they exited King Olaf's burial chamber.

"How did you know the lute would work?" he asked.

"I didn't know for sure. What you told me about it being cursed made sense, so I thought, 'What if it is magic?' and gave it a go. I had nothing to lose. At the worst, I would have died doing what I love, and that's more than what most people can say," she answered, yawning.

"You're tired. Get some rest and I'll watch over camp for the night," he offered.

"Fine, but wake me up in a few hours. I can handle waking up earlier." Vilkas cocked a brow, and she shrugged. "Sleepless nights aren't unfamiliar to me."

Vilkas nodded, though he didn't take it too seriously. Valentina put the lute away and tucked herself into the bedroll.

"Goodnight, grumpy breeches," she said.

"What did you just call me?"

"You heard me right the first time. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Imperial," he sighed.

The aspiring bard closed her eyes and fell asleep. Vilkas glanced at her, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. She fared better today than he expected, though she would need a good night's sleep to recover.

Vilkas kept himself awake for as long as he could, reflecting on their adventure. He struggled to remember the last time any job had been as rewarding as this one. Sure, the Imperial was obnoxious, and he contemplated feeding her to the draugr several times, but that didn't deter from the fact that finding King Olaf's verse was more thrilling than offing bandits.

The Companions' eyes grew heavy with sleep, and his thoughts turned into a jumbled mess of half-thoughts, when he heard a laugh next to him. Valentina was awake and in her armor, ready to take on the next shift. Vilkas wanted to protest, until the Imperial said, "Go to sleep. I don't need you grumpier than you usually are on the way to Solitude."

By the time Vilkas laid down the bedroll, he was unconscious. He thought he heard the soft sound of a lute as he fell asleep. If he didn't know any better, he could have sworn the bard was strumming a lullaby for him.

***

They arrived in Solitude in the afternoon. The last time he was in the city, Vilkas went to the Blue Palace to meet with the Jarl's steward about an escaped criminal. The Companion hadn't stayed too long, setting back towards Whiterun as soon as he could. He would do the same thing once he escorted Valentina back to the Bards College.

"Solitude is lovely, isn't it?" Valentina asked him.

Vilkas shrugged. "It's better than Morthal."

"Such a dour attitude. Don't you appreciate history, or beauty?"

"Of course I do. What do you take me for?"

"Ouch. You don't need to be so defensive. It was just a question, broodykins."

"Broodykins?"

Valentina chuckled. "It's cute. Oh, don't give me that look. _I_ thought it was cute, but I can see by that adorable scowl on your face that it's not. Anyhow, I happen to love Solitude a good deal. It's so rich in history, and the city is so alive, so vibrant. I used to dream of living here as a child. Did you know one time…"

"Get to the point," Vilkas cut in.

"Right, sorry. The only reason I asked because you strike me as someone who enjoys reading."

The Imperial wasn't wrong. Kodlak liked to remind him about how he always had his nose in a book when he was younger. When he and Farkas received payment for their first "official" jobs as Companions, Vilkas spent his earnings on books. He retained that love of reading as an adult, furnishing his room with several bookshelves, and too many books to count. And now? Well… he hadn't read a good book in a long time.

Valentina disregarded his silence and went on. "If you're in the market for a good read, I recommend Adonato Leotelli's _Ghost in the Storm_. Leotelli has a way with words. I'd love to meet him one day."

"Maybe," he said to dismiss her.

Valentina continued to prattle on about something, though he tuned her out after the first couple of sentences. When she became this chatty, it was best to drown out the noise and let her go on. _Does she ever tire of hearing her own voice?_ the Companion wondered. He focused on his surroundings. The Imperial wasn't wrong about one thing; Solitude was a lovely city, alive even, with its tall buildings and urbane surroundings. Where had his appreciation gone for the finer things in life?

They arrived at the Bards College, giving Vilkas little time to ponder the answer to that question. Like most of Solitude, the college was a grand building with the finest furniture available. The main floor alone had over a dozen bookshelves, each filled to the brim with books. Between Valentina's talk of books and the sheer amount available, the Companion itched for a good read.

A young Altmer walked down the stairs, disrupting Vilkas' thoughts. The lad looked disgruntled, running a hand through his wheat-colored hair and muttering something underneath his breath. _Then again, all High Elves look pissed_ , Vilkas noted. Valentina, for her part, seemed to recognize him and grinned.

"Falryn!" Valentina called out.

The young Altmer stopped in his tracks, his golden eyes widened in surprise. Valentina held up the lost verse, and the elf's mouth went agape.

"King Olaf's verse? H-how did you manage to get it?" Falryn asked.

"An adventure, a bit of luck, and a dashing Companion," Valentina said, nudging Vilkas, who rolled his eyes. "Where's your father at?"

"He's in his office and… I'm sorry. I can scarcely believe that you retrieved the verse. What an impressive feat! Can I can see it before you hand it to him?" Falryn asked.

Vilkas was sure Valentina would hand him the verse, but she shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. The sooner I get it to Viarmo, the better. I hope you understand that."

"I understand. I hope you can share more about your adventurers once you've joined the college."

Valentina grinned. "Of course. I can even tell you about how I helped this one over here."

"Don't flatter yourself, Imperial. Let's get this to the headmaster so I can rid myself of you," Vilkas said.

"Don't sound so eager. You'll miss my company when you're in Whiterun. Now if you'll excuse me, friend, my ever-so-charming companion and I should pay a visit to your father. I'll see you at the festival, now that it's back on."

"Indeed. Good luck, friend," Falryn said, giving the Imperial a kind smile. As Valentina scampered ahead, Falryn added, "Thank you, Companion. She couldn't have done this without you."

Vilkas surprised himself by answering, "I wouldn't sell her short. She'll make an excellent addition to the college."

The Nord didn't wait for the elf's response, and caught up to Valentina. The Imperial stopped behind the headmaster's door. She held onto the lost verse and turned to Vilkas with a questioning gaze. He nodded at her, and she twisted the knob to Viarmo's office open. The Altmer sat at his desk, reading a book, and looked up at Valentina, giving her a broad grin. Vilkas noted that Falryn looked like his father. They had the same blonde hair and pronounced features, as well as the same warmth.

"Ah, you have returned. How goes the task I gave you?" the Altmer asked and then motioned towards Vilkas. "I suppose you asked the Companions for help?"

"I did. Together, we found King Olaf's verse," Valentina announced, proudly holding up the verse.

"I have to admit, I didn't think it would actually be there."

"You _what_?" Valentina asked as the headmaster grabbed the verse from the Imperial.

"Now let's take a look at this…" Viarmo's voice trailed off, and his brow furrowed. "Oh. Oh no. This won't do at all."

"What do you mean? It has to be Olaf's verse," Vilkas insisted, his heart falling in his chest. He saw the dismay in Valentina's eyes as well. They had gone through all that work, only to have it ripped away from them.

"The copy is incomplete. It's aged to the point that parts of it are unreadable. And the parts that are readable… well… bardic verse has come a long way since ancient times."

"How bad could it be?" Valentina asked, and Viarmo handed the verse to her. Vilkas watched her expression turn from confused to dismayed. The Imperial set her lips into a tight line. "This… this is not good. There's no way you can read this to the court. You'd become a laughingstock."

Viarmo frowned. "Without the verse, I won't be able to convince Elisif of the importance of the Burning of King Olaf Festival. If she isn't convinced of the festival's importance, then she won't reverse the decision to stop the effigy burning. It means that the Burning of King Olaf, which the Bards College has held for time immemorial, won't be happening."

The headmaster's enthusiasm disappeared, leaving disappointment in its wake. The revelation crushed the elf. Now it became clear why they sent Valentina to retrieve the lost verse. Viarmo was so desperate to continue the tradition of the festival that he wanted someone, anyone, to take a chance on retrieving the verse. Why they ever expected that Valentina was qualified was another question, but Vilkas decided not to be an ass.

If the verse was as unreadable as Viarmo said it was, then the college wouldn't be able to continue an important tradition. Vilkas was also disappointed. He and Farkas attended the festival a few times, and it was always a delight. It was a shame that the verse was unpresentable, but what else could he do? Vilkas was no bard, and he helped Valentina do what she set out to.

Valentina, however, had other ideas.

"No. We can't do that," Valentina said. "The festival is important. I loved nothing more than seeing the Bards College perform when I was a girl. There are others that look forward to this year after year, and we're not taking that away from them."

"Then what are you suggesting? This thing is… not great," Viarmo said, still looking at the verse in dismay, though Vilkas noticed the Imperial had his attention.

"It's simple. We're making up the missing parts of the verse," Valentina said.

"Make it up? That doesn't seem appropriate," Viarmo noted, scratching his head.

"Aye! You can't just make something up. It's an old document!" Vilkas exclaimed. He believed the Imperial lost whatever was left of her good sense. The worst part was that she wasn't joking. If the way her eyes glared daggers at him was anything to go by, she was serious.

"And why not? Have either of you become an expert at recovering old verses in the last couple of minutes?" Valentina demanded, her hands on her hips.

Both men looked at each other, unsure of how to respond.

"Well, no…" Vilkas started.

"Then this is the only solution. Do you really think the Jarl and her court will know if we flub a couple of lines?" Valentina asked.

"Probably not," Viarmo conceded, studying the verse once more. "I suppose I could copy his style based on what happened, but I have no idea what happened in between these verses."

Valentina tapped her forehead. "And that is where the power of imagination comes in. We can dazzle the court yet."

"Valentina, this is madness," Vilkas warned, but she paid him no mind as she asked, "What's the first verse?"

Viarmo cleared his throat and recited the poem aloud.

_O Olaf, our subjugator, the one eyed betrayer;_

_death-dealing demon and dragon-killing king._

_Your legend is lies, lurid and false;_

_your cunning capture of Numinex, a con for the ages._

"Huh. King Olaf was Olaf One-Eye? He famously captured the dragon Numinex and took him to Dragonsreach. What do we say really happened?" Viarmo asked.

Vilkas was not about to let this entire endeavor delve into madness. If they were going to change such an ancient verse, they would do it in a way that gave it justice. So he made the first suggestion, hoping the headmaster would listen to him.

"Olaf could have found him asleep, though that might not be exciting enough. What if Olaf made a deal with Numinex?" Vilkas asked.

Valentina raised an eyebrow. "Made a deal? _That's_ your brilliant idea?"

"And what's so wrong with that? Do you have something better?"

"I most certainly do. Viarmo, do you want to titillate the court, or would you rather that they fall asleep out of the sheer boredom caused by my uncreative companion's suggestion?" Valentina asked.

"Well, the Companion's idea is not without merit," Viarmo admitted.

"How narrowly you think! No, it won't do. Olaf didn't simply find Numinex asleep, or strike a deal as if he was some silly merchant. No," Valentina paused for dramatic effect, and Vilkas rolled his eyes. "Olaf was Numinex! A dragon in human form!"

"How does that make any sense?" Vilkas demanded.

"We live in a world where men turn to beasts, and you're batting an eyelash at the prospect of a man turning into a dragon?" Valentina fired back.

"I find that highly unlikely as well… but the court will love it. I'm writing it in," Viarmo said, penning a new verse.

"See?" Valentina told him. "Consider it, Companion! Olaf! A fraud! A living dragon! How deliciously scandalous!"

"You've lost your mind," Vilkas grumbled.

"Or I'm brilliant, either one. Tell us, Viarmo, what is the next verse?"

"Let's see here… there we go."

_Olaf grabbed power, by promise and threat,_

_From Falkreath to Winterhold, they fell to their knees;_

_But Solitude stood strong, Skyrim's truest protectors._

_Olaf's vengeance was instant, inspired and wicked._

"Wait a minute. According to history, Solitude attacked Winterhold," Vilkas noted.

"Indeed, but this verse claims that Olaf reacted. Interesting," Valentina added.

"What do we say happened then?" Viarmo asked.

"Hmm. What if Olaf ordered disguised troops to attack Solitude, or convinced Winterhold to attack Solitude?"

"Or! Better yet! Olaf sacked it in dragon form!" Valentina exclaimed.

"For the love of Mara! Enough about this dragon form nonsense!" Vilkas snapped.

"Oh! That is exciting! I'm sure the Jarl and the court will love it. I'm writing it in now," Viarmo said, his hand moving quickly to pen in the new verse. "There we go. It has a few final lines, but that's all we needed to add. I need to head to court immediately and present this. You should come."

Valentina clapped. "We should! I don't know about you, Companion, but I'm eager to hear about how scoundrel Olaf attacked Winterhold as a dragon."

The verse was as daft as the aspiring bard that suggested them. No self-respecting court would ever believe that Olaf One-Eyed was Numinex. Vilkas resigned himself to following the Altmer and the Imperial, if only to witness the fallout of the disastrous performance.

***

"This place is beautiful," Valentina whispered to no one in particular.

Vilkas had gone to the Blue Palace many times on jobs as a Companion, so it didn't enchant him as it did Valentina. Still, the palace was a sight to behold; from the grand staircase that led to the throne room to the lavish décor, the Blue Palace was magnificent. It was easy to understand why this place would impress the aspiring bard the way it did. All Vilkas hoped for was that she had manners to deal with the court.

The trio entered the throne room, with Viarmo leading them to Jarl Elisif herself. There were rumours of the Jarl's great beauty, and Vilkas could see where they stemmed from. The young woman had coppery locks of hair, and wonderful sapphire blue eyes—yet for all of that beauty, an air of sadness surrounded her. Her husband's death was too recent, and it showed. If Torygg had been around twenty-five winters old, Elisif couldn't be much older, possibly even younger, yet it was as if she had the weight of the Nirn on her shoulders. He wondered if Torygg's murder had something to do with why she would be so averse to burning an effigy of a king. If it was, he wasn't sure that Viarmo would have much luck convincing the Jarl to reinstate the Festival.

Viarmo bowed, deep, and Valentina and Vilkas followed suit.

"My Jarl," Viarmo greeted.

"Ah, Viarmo. I assume you are here to petition for the reinstatement of the Burning of King Olaf Festival?" the Jarl asked.

"I am, my Jarl. I wish to present King Olaf's verse from the Poetic Edda. Recovered this very day from the Bard's Tomb."

"Ah, you mentioned something that would convince us the festival should take place, but I didn't expect King Olaf's lost verse. Please proceed."

Viarmo nodded and narrated the lost verse. Vilkas and Valentina listened to his recital, captured by his cadence and his pacing. _He certainly isn't Vignar with one of his stories_ , Vilkas thought, resisting a smile. No, the bard captured Svaknir's verse well, and Vilkas was enjoying the elf's delivery. It didn't stop the knots that formed in his stomach as he waited for the improvised verses.

_No shouting match between dragon and man, no fire or fury did this battle entail._

_Olaf was Numinex in human form, on moonless nights he would spread his wings and sail._

The court gasped at this revelation. Valentina broke into a grin. _Ysmir's beard, she was right! They're enjoying this!_ Vilkas observed. Viarmo had them hanging on his every word, even piquing the interest of the more stoic members of the court. He wished he could scoff at them, but even he found himself enraptured with Viarmo's retelling.

_Because Solitude would not soon bend the knee, Olaf would hurt them while his status accrued._

_He sacked Winterhold in dragon form, and bent their minds to blame Solitude._

_So ends the story of Olaf the liar, a thief and a scoundrel we of Solitude commit to the fire._

_In Solitude bards train for their service, they also gather each year and burn a King who deserves it._

The court erupted in clapping, with Jarl Elisif granting the Altmer a standing ovation. Viarmo beamed with the praise, though the Altmer winked at Valentina, who returned it with a grin. Vilkas didn't just clap for Viarmo's performance, but for Valentina's determination. As wonderful as it was, the tenacious Imperial woman who stood by his side made such a performance possible.

Elisif calmed the court and said, "You have proven your point, Viarmo. The festival is truly a celebration of Solitude and a condemnation of false kings"

"I thank you and the college thanks you, Jarl."

"Furthermore, I believe that such a fine poem deserves some payment of Patronage. The college will be very generously rewarded."

"Thank you yet again. I will make sure our applicant, who was instrumental in… recovering the poem, will be well-rewarded."

The Jarl smiled at Valentina and said, "Make sure that she is."

The blush on Valentina's face grew deeper, and Vilkas thought it made her more endearing. For all of her swaggering about her abilities, it was refreshing to see her take the praise without boasting.

Viarmo approached Valentina, still basking in the Jarl's generous praise and approval.

"Unbelievable! You have done us a great service here. I can't begin to thank you enough," the High Elf said.

"So, does that mean I'm a bard now?" Valentina asked, and Vilkas smirked. The woman was direct when she wanted to be, and he appreciated that.

"Soon, soon. These things must be done properly, you will be inducted as a part of the festival itself. I need to speak to Jorn. He was preparing the Effigy of King Olaf. I'm going to tell him the festival is back on."

"There is something else that the Companion and I discovered in the tomb that might interest you," Valentina said. "Can you spare a few minutes for us?"

"Of course. Follow me to my office and we can take a look at it together. I can even ask Giraud if…"

"In private," Valentina cut in, and Viarmo nodded. This confused Vilkas, but he didn't protest.

***

As Viarmo informed Jorn that the festival was still happening, Valentina and Vilkas returned to Viarmo's office. Much to his surprise, Vilkas noticed Valentina wasn't as enthusiastic as she had been moments ago at the Blue Palace. He wondered what was concerning the Imperial so much until it hit him. _The lute. She meant to talk about it with him._

"When Viarmo comes in, you will follow my lead," Valentina whispered.

"What do you…"

"Don't question me, Vilkas. Just let me talk," she warned.

"I'm sorry about keeping you waiting," the Altmer said, taking a seat behind his desk. "What can I help you two with?"

"Before we begin, Vilkas, would you mind keeping an ear out for any eavesdroppers? I'd feel much more comfortable knowing that this conversation is happening in the utmost privacy," Valentina said.

Vilkas obliged, knowing that he would be able to hear the conversation through the door anyhow. He exited the room, giving Valentina and Viarmo a chance to talk about the lute.

"I apologize for asking you to meet with me on such short notice, but I have something to bring to your attention. Take a look at this," Valentina said, likely handing him the lute.

"By the Nine! This is a lovely lute. Where did you find it?" Viarmo asked.

"I didn't find it. The Companion found it in a chest."

Vilkas' brow furrowed. He wasn't the one that retrieved the lute—Valentina was.

"In a chest? Who would lock away a lute?"

"That's what I was wondering. The Companion suggested it was enchanted, or cursed, though it doesn't seem to do anything. Watch."

Valentina played a small tune. Nothing impressive must have occurred, because all he heard the Altmer do was let out a sound of puzzlement. _But that's a lie. She knows the lute is magic, or else she wouldn't have been able to help me._ Although, the lute seemed to have a mind of its own. Valentina's inability to use it with King Olaf came to mind, though if it was magic, it should have worked even as she was strumming it throughout their journey, or at that moment with Viarmo.

"Hmm. It is strange, and it has such unique engravings. The flowers are lovely. I've ever seen an instrument quite like it," Viarmo observed.

"That's why he thought it was wise to bring it back to Solitude." Valentina paused and sighed. "We may have something great on our hands, headmaster. This mystery lute might be another piece of Skyrim's history."

"But if it does nothing…"

"Do we know it does nothing for sure? Forgive me for my interruption, but I entreat you to humor me for a moment. Perhaps I'm not able to use the lute, and perhaps the Companion isn't. But what if it is enchanted? Why else would it be in Svaknir's tomb, so carefully tucked away? And you see these strange flower engravings as I do. I don't believe they're just decorative. They mean something."

"You might be right. It is strange for such a fine instrument to be locked away as it was. Did anything else happen when you retrieved it?"

"No, not at all," Valentina lied, not missing a beat. This took Vilkas off-guard. If he hadn't been there, he would have believed her. He never took the Imperial for a liar and this made him question her. But she gave him a subtle warning that she would be dishonest, so she had her reasons, though Vilkas couldn't imagine what.

"Very well. I'll task Giraud with searching for whatever he can find about an enchanted lute, or instruments. If not, we must take it to the College of Winterhold. Perhaps we can even enlist the help of other students."

"If I may offer some counsel, I think for now, it would be wise to keep this between those who need to know. People talk, and I wouldn't want jealous hands to snatch the lute away from us before we had a chance to examine it. If it is nothing, then that is all fine and well, but I suspect it isn't."

"That might be wiser yet. We will keep the matter discreet, for now," Viarmo affirmed. "Would you like to stay posted on the discoveries we make?"

"That would please me. Thank you, headmaster."

"No, thank you, Valentina. Your contributions to this college are greatly appreciated. I look forward to inducting you tonight."

"So do I. I'll see you after dusk."

Valentina stepped out of Viarmo's office, closing the headmaster's door behind her. Vilkas had so many questions for her, but she put a finger on her lips to silence him. The Imperial looped her arm around him and escorted him outside of the college's premises.

"What was…" Vilkas started.

"I know you have questions, but trust me when I tell you that I wouldn't have said what I did without good reason. For now, keep it our little secret. Please."

Vilkas didn't like secrets. He preferred an honest and direct approach to problems, much like he thought Valentina did. Neither did the Companion like lying to the headmaster who seemed decent. But the Imperial's looked up at him, her eyes wide, pleading, begging him not to mention anything. He found his resolve wavering and sighed.

"Fine, but you owe me an honest answer later," he said.

"That's a promise. I have a few errands I need to run, including making myself presentable for tonight's festival. Why don't you get yourself ready for tonight as well? Take the time to get some proper rest in something that's not a bed roll."

"I just might," he said.

"I'll see you at the Festival then?"

"I'll see you then."

Valentina flashed him one last grateful smile before walking off, leaving him wondering about her motivations to lie about the lute.

***

After spending an afternoon resting at the inn, Vilkas was refreshed, so he made his way to the Bards College for the Festival. The city buzzed with excitement over the Festival. Everywhere he went, he heard talk of the newest member of the Bards College and the Companion that retrieved Olaf's lost verse, and the ensuing celebration. He hated to give Valentina credit, knowing it would go to her head, but the city was truly alive. Maybe it always was, he just didn't take the time to appreciate it.

Vilkas found Valentina waiting by the effigy, dressed for her initiation into the college. She wore a pretty green dress that brought out the color of her eyes, which she lined with some black powder. Her lustrous black hair was put into a braid, bringing out her heart-shaped face. The Imperial was a fine looking woman. _Wait, what was that thought?_

Vilkas brushed off the thought and took his place next to her. Valentina smiled at him.

"You know, I'm surprised that you're not off to Whiterun right now. I was sure you'd be excited to rid yourself of me," Valentina noted.

"I considered it. Then I figured there would be free wine and food, and I couldn't say no to that," Vilkas said.

"Ah. Free food and drink will do that. I suppose it's not as ludicrous as dressing up in a jester's costume for a sweetroll."

"What?"

"A long story for another time," Valentina said, waving his questions away. "I'm glad you're here. Why don't you stay a few days after the Festival, you know, take a chance to get away from it all?"

He shook his head, frowning. "I'm going to have to return to Whiterun after tonight." She frowned back at him, so he added, "Don't focus on that right now. This is your moment. Enjoy it."

Before Valentina could answer, Viarmo made his appearance. The Altmer held a torch in his hand, burning as brightly as the smile on his face. He greeted Valentina and Vilkas personally, then addressed the festival goers.

"Welcome, people of Solitude!" Viarmo greeted. "We of the Bards College are pleased to be here to celebrate the Burning of King Olaf. The festival would not have been possible without the dedication and hard work of our latest applicant."

Viarmo pointed to Valentina, and the Imperial grinned, giving the crowd a dazzling smile. The crowd clapped for her, and she took it all in. He wondered what she would be like with a lute in front of a crowd, performing.

"With the lighting of the effigy…"

Viarmo's voice trailed off as he set the effigy of King Olaf aflame, the scent of burning straw tickling Vilkas' nose and throat.

"She becomes a full-fledged member of the Bards College. Please welcome our newest Bard!"

The crowd clapped harder, and Valentina was radiant. She continued to beam at the crowd, brighter than the flames of the effigy. Vilkas suspected that the bard had wanted this for a long time. No one would put themselves through the danger she did to get the verse. He underestimated her. She was more determined than he gave her credit, and he was proud of her. He might have helped her retrieve the verse, but her determination and courage saved him back in Dead Men's Respite. He would never forget that.

"I think they like you," Viarmo noted.

Valentina laughed. "Now that is rare. We'll see how long that lasts. As Vilkas can attest, I'm a handful."

"Most bards are. Trust me. You'll get on just fine. Besides, we couldn't do any of this without your help. What's more, Elisif has declared the Burning of King Olaf should become a weekly event."

"That's excellent news!" Valentina exclaimed, and Vilkas grinned.

"And finally, there's the matter of the Patronage that Elisif wanted me to give you. Here. A thousand two hundred and fifty Septims, all to your name, and your tuition paid for by the Jarl herself."

Vilkas saw that Valentina's eyes widened, though she said nothing. She kept her composure and said, "That's wonderful! I will have to pen a letter to the Jarl as soon as I can to thank her for her generosity."

"It's well-earned. You've earned a lot of glory here today, Valentina, for yourself and for the college. I'm eager to see what else you'll contribute in the future. And thank you, Companion, for your assistance. Now go enjoy your night, both of you. You've earned it," Viarmo remarked, then returned to the Festival.

As soon as Viarmo was far off, Valentina squealed and jumped into Vilkas' arms. His eyes widened at first, not expecting the hug, but he caught her before she fell flat on her face. Under any other circumstances, he would have made some comment to get her off of him, but he didn't mind it. Valentina accomplished something incredible, and he was happy for her. So he hugged her back, pleased that he could help her on her adventure. She wasn't all bad.

"Congratulations," he said, putting her down. "It's well-earned. I expect I'll be hearing some songs of yours all the way in Whiterun."

"You can count on it. I have to immortalize our time in the tomb somehow. Do you prefer being called Vilkas the Dashing, Vilkas the Bold, or Vilkas the Broody?"

"Neither, unless you're calling yourself something just as ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? You mean to tell me Valentina the Fair, or Valentina the Exquisite are ridiculous? Alright, alright. Valentina the Great it is. Now come on. We have a whole night ahead of us. Then you can rid yourself of me."

Vilkas grinned and joined the festivities. It was a night of drinking, dancing, and singing; the members of the Bards College were talented, after all. Valentina and some of her fellow bards performed a few songs, and it pleased Vilkas to see her getting along so well with her future classmates. Sometimes he noticed the headmaster's son eying the Imperial. _Finally, she'll stop complaining about her sexual frustration._ The Altmer and Imperial shared a couple of dances, but Vilkas didn't escape her clutches. The bard roped him into dancing a few times too. He did it to humor her. It was her night, after all.

It was getting late. Vilkas realized he would have to return to the inn soon if he wanted to get enough rest for his journey back to Whiterun. He pulled Valentina aside for a moment, just to say goodbye. All the mirth in her eyes vanished, replaced with disappointment as she asked, "Are you sure you want to take off for Whiterun so soon?"

"Aye. There's no telling when someone will call on a Companion again. I should be going back to the inn and getting some rest," Vilkas answered.

"Then you should take this before you go." The bard pulled something out of her pack. _Ghost in the Storm_ by Adonato Leotelli. "I found an extra copy for you. I'm sure you're busy with the war. It seems like everyone needs the Companions more in these hard times. But a good book takes your mind away. It's an adventure without the draugr chasing you, some might say."

He smiled and accepted the book. "That's all well and fine, but nothing captures the real thing."

"Nothing indeed. No one ever mentions the smell either," she added, scrunching her nose for good measure.

They shared a laugh, but Valentina soon turned somber. She offered him a smile, though it had none of her good humor. It was strange to think that she would be in Solitude and not bothering him in Whiterun. For how annoying she was— and truly, she was annoying— she livened up his life a smidge. Vilkas admitted to himself that a small part would miss the bard's company.

"Thank you for everything. I wouldn't have made it out of that tomb alive without you," she said.

"I'm not convinced. At the very least, you would have annoyed the draugr so much that they would have thrown Olaf's verse at you," Vilkas said, half-joking.

She smirked. "I might have found my calling if being a bard doesn't work out. It might be more lucrative. Speaking of, I forgot to give you something earlier."

Valentina slipped the amethyst ring she stole off of her finger and offered it to him. Vilkas shook his head.

"The gold from the tomb was more than enough to cover how much you owe me. It was gracious of you to not loot anything for yourself, apart from the lute."

"Which isn't even mine anyhow. Oh well."

That led Vilkas to ask an important question. "Why didn't you tell Viarmo the truth about the lute? Do you not trust him?"

Valentina looked around to see if anyone was listening. She kept her voice low and said, "It's not Viarmo I don't trust. I like the elf well enough. Understand that you and I have accomplished a great thing retrieving that verse. That means people will talk. Some bards are proud, and they don't want to be outdone. The college is small, and word travels quickly. If they discover I found a magic lute that a dead bard gifted upon me, there will be two reactions: one, that I'm a liar, or two, that I'm a threat. I want neither of those perceptions."

"That sounds paranoid," Vilkas observed.

"It might, but it's safer this way. Trust me. If you have enough individuals with massive egos like mine, someone is bound to do something reckless to get ahead. If Viarmo wants Giraud to investigate the lute before sending it to the College of Winterhold to examine, I won't say anything. They'll discover the lute is magic for themselves."

"By your logic, aren't you already something of a threat? Not only did you retrieve the lost verse, but you received Jarl Elisif's patronage."

"No, not really. If I had to take a gander, most of my classmates will assume that you were my saving grace. I might play the lute well, but they won't believe that I'm any competition to them. They'll think I'm lucky at best. I won't seek to change their assumptions, and I won't bring up that lute. No one will sabotage my career before it's started. I worked too hard to get to where I am, Vilkas."

Valentina sighed, although her eyes lit up as she looked at the ring on her finger. "At least the ring looks fetching on me, so I guess I can say that's mine." _Her moods will never cease to stun me_ , Vilkas thought, watching as the Imperial gushed at the ring. How was it possible that one person could go from so serious to ridiculously blithe within seconds? She was just talking about safeguarding her reputation, and now she was proud of a ring!

The bard turned serious once more and said, "Enough of my preening. I owe you my thanks once more. Goodbye, Vilkas."

"Goodbye, Valentina."

She stood up on her toes and pressed a kiss onto his cheek. The bard flashed him a coy grin before joining up with her new colleagues. Vilkas' cheeks burned. It was an unexpected gesture, though not unwelcome. _She could be worse_ , he concluded, and returned to the inn to read _Ghost in the Storm._

Their adventure into King Olaf's tomb would always be a fond memory. What the Companion didn't know was that this wasn't the last time he wouldn't be seeing the bard, far from it. Their adventure was only just beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! All comments welcome <3


	3. The Prideful Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The not-so-humble bard continues the story.

Valentina sat in her quarters, papers strewn about her desk. She scribbled a few music notes onto a sheet of paper, trying a new combination. _Alright, let me give this another go. I think C minor is an excellent key for music that accompanies a riveting tale._ C, G, C. D, E flat, D, and C. That was the winning combination, she was sure of it. She took her lute and plucked the strings, then sang her newly penned verse.

_There once was a bard who set on a quest_

_With a noble Companion at her behest._

' _Twas a pair so mismatched…_

The Imperial stopped and let out a groan. That didn't sound right either. The lyrics were fine. Or at least she thought they were fine. _Another round of revisions wouldn't hurt._ But, something was wrong with the notes. They didn't have an air of suspense and mystery, just grief, making it sound like a lament. The bard sighed. Her solo performance was in a week, and she still couldn't pull her song together. It was worse than that. Inge Six Fingers, the Dean of Lutes, and the Master Vocalist, Pantea Ateia, expected her early rendition tomorrow.

The bard put the lute aside and walked away from her desk, taking a sip from the bottle of spiced wine Evette San gifted her at The Burning of King Olaf. She rubbed her forehead at the memory of the Festival, recalling how joyous she was that she joined the college. Now all she focused on was her solo performance, or the lack thereof. This hadn't been the first time Valentina struggled to complete the song either. Ever since she returned from Dead Men's Respite, she failed to capture her experience.

_Why did I agree to do this?_ she questioned. It was that bitch Aia Arria's fault. The other Imperial woman, in her haughtiness, didn't like Valentina from the moment she walked into the college. The two formally met in Inge and Pantea's workshop a few days after Valentina settled into the college, and the dislike was mutual.

"So you're the new member that found Olaf's lost verse?" Aia asked, giving Valentina a once over. "You're awfully tiny for such a task."

Valentina gritted her teeth into a grin. "Ah yes. No one has ever commented on my height before. How original of you. Do tell, are your vocal abilities more remarkable than your wit?"

The new bard kept her voice and her words sweeter than mead, but Aia wasn't daunted. The tall Imperial let out a harsh laugh, and retorted, "My abilities are second to none. Not even Pantea herself can outshine me. At least I can say that I've gotten here on talent. And what of you, little one?"

"I've been told my voice is as sweet as a nightingale."

That was only partially a lie, Valentina reasoned. Someone did call her voice as sweet as a nightingale, but it was that one drunken hookup she had when she was still in Ivarstead as a teenager. They both had too much to drink, and she figured he was as good as anyone to test out a new song.

"Birds sing simple songs. Although, as I reflect, that might suit you. A small thing, fluttering around to do Viarmo's bidding. Tell me, do you think your little expedition into Olaf's tomb means you're gifted?"

The other bards overheard this and circled both Imperials. Who said bards didn't like a good spectacle? They thrived on it and claimed it helped with their storytelling, but they all knew that it was because they enjoyed the drama.

Valentina kept her composure, though the rage seethed throughout her body. Retrieving the verse from King Olaf's tomb was no "little expedition," as the snobby Imperial claimed it was. She risked her life and Vilkas' to retrieve it. Besides, Valentina already knew she had a fine voice. She wouldn't let a patronizing classmate tell her otherwise. So she added enough honey to her vinegar, just as she learned all those years ago in Riften.

"Now, now, fellow bard. We needn't trade such blows with each other. It's a shame that two talented women such as ourselves would get along so poorly. I believe we would be better working together than apart. You have a lovely voice, Aia, and you have such a knack for the flute. Although I suppose that happens when your mother and father pay for such a lavish education. So well-bred, almost like a show horse, or a prized pig," Valentina said.

Valentina resisted the urge to grin with wicked satisfaction as Aia's cheeks turned red. The other bards chuckled, with Jorn letting out a hearty laugh at Valentina's snipe. Valentina suspected that it was an embarrassment to the other woman, but wouldn't allow her anger to get the better part of her. Aia had to remain dignified, prim, and proper.

"You would know, wouldn't you? Didn't you mention your parents were from a farm in some insignificant settlement? Ivarstead, I believe? They must have raised you along with the donkeys, because you're making an ass of yourself. I wouldn't be surprised if your parents were as daft as assess too."

The other bards oohed while Valentina glowered. If Aia wanted to insult her talent and insinuate she was some low-bred donkey, that was fine. But Yva and Drenr deserved no such insults. They loved her as though she had been their own. Valentina wished they were men so that they could swing their fists at each other. Tempting as it was, the tiny Imperial wouldn't face Viarmo to explain that they brawled like petty children. _No, that won't do. No matter what good I've done for the college, Viarmo would not approve._

She approached the other Imperial and gazed up at her, a fire burning in her heart. They stood toe-to-toe, Aia waiting for her to make the next move, a satisfied smirk on her face.

"You will not drag my parents into this. If you do, I'll make sure you're never able to use your voice again," Valentina said, her voice low, dangerous. "If you want to doubt my talent, you are free to do so, but I will prove you wrong."

"And how do you suggest doing such a thing, little one?" Aia asked.

"I'll show you that there's more to me than performing Olaf's verse. In fact, I'll write a song about it, and I'll use it for my solo performance next month. It'll be one of the finest songs Skyrim has ever heard. You'll have no choice but to eat your bitter words."

"Careful. You almost sound like you're biting more than you can chew. We wouldn't want you to choke," Aia sneered.

"I don't choke. I swallow, hence why no one has had any complaints about me," Valentina replied, and a couple of her fellow bards gasp. Valentina was no high-born Imperial lady. She followed all the artifice that came with good manners, but when push came to shove, the Imperial returned to what was familiar: her sharp tongue.

"You're disgusting."

"The only thing that disgusts me is your sourness," Valentina said, and grabbed a lute. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I have the solo performance of the year to prepare for."

Alright, so this was her fault more than it was Aia's. Valentina admitted she let her pride win. Three weeks passed since that day, and all she had to show for it was a set of lyrics and an incomplete melody. If she were smarter, she would have been working on a backup song for her performance. It wasn't like she couldn't write a decent song about anything else.

_What about a love song? Everyone likes a love song._ The bard frowned. There were several problems with opting for a love song. If she wrote some romantic ballad, it would be shirking Aia's challenge, and her fellow bard would never let her live it down. Pantea and Inge might also consider her a shallow fool to go with a love song. It was such a cliché that pulling off a masterful song about love took great skill.

It wasn't just a question of great skill. The best songs came from experience. Valentina had a long-term relationship while she lived in Ivarstead. While she cared about the man, she doubted she was ever in love with him. Everyone just assumed that they would end up married and she did too. When it ended, she wasn't heartbroken, but relieved. She had a couple of dalliances with men here and there, though no one captured her affections. She doubted she ever loved anyone the way that all those songs warranted. Her mind flashed to an image of piercing grey eyes. _I don't know him enough to feel anything, so that won't do_ , she reminded herself. _Unless I write from my experience of not bedding anyone in over a year. I'm sure Inge and Pantea would love a performance where I detail my sexual frustration._ The thought made her chuckle.

"You're still awake?" someone asked.

Falryn lingered at the threshold, still dressed in the same clothes he wore earlier that day. His golden hair was mussed, as though he had been running his hand through it. It surprised Valentina to see the Altmer up this late. The only one who was in the habit of roaming after hours was Illdi.

"Observant as ever. If you can guess what I'm doing up at this time, I owe you a sweetroll," Valentina said.

"Let's see…" Falryn entered the room, spotted the papers all over her desk, and asked, "You're scrambling to work on your early rendition that's due in a couple of hours?"

"Sweetroll owed."

Falryn frowned. "What seems to be the problem with the rendition?"

"I can't find the right key for it. First, I tried it in a major key because I was so sure it would capture that spirit of adventure. For the first week and a half, I was singing the whole thing in G major, and then I realized it didn't work. A tomb is a dark place, filled with great peril, but it also rewards those who are courageous."

"So you switched to a minor?"

"Yes. I went through all of my flats, and I didn't like any of them. I just tried C minor, but it sounds so gloomy. That's not what I want."

"Why don't you run the first verse by me in C minor?"

She hesitated at first. The Imperial didn't relish the prospect of sharing an incomplete work with a fellow bard, especially when bards were so apt to betray one another to get ahead. Then again, Falryn was such a talented bard that he didn't need to steal her song for his own performance. Although he was Viarmo's son, he was skilled in his own right. Valentina had no doubt he would have a bright future the moment he exited the college—well, if he did.

She did as the elf asked. The Altmer closed his eyes, as if that allowed him to absorb the lyrics and the melody better. If it were anyone else, she might have laughed at them. Not Falryn, though. The Imperial trusted Falryn's judgment, and she knew his critique would be fair.

Once she stopped playing, she asked, "What's missing?"

"Hmm…" Falryn pondered on her question for a moment before answering, "Your lyrics are fine and the melody is quite catchy, but you're right. The key isn't suitable for that first verse. C minor, as far as I'm concerned, is what I imagine the thick of battle feels like."

"Ahh. That explains it. There are two solutions. I could begin a full tone lower and have a key change for the final verse in C minor. If not, maybe D minor? E minor?"

"Both beautiful keys. I'm more fond of E minor myself, though that comes down to preference."

"E minor is haunting in its beauty. I should save it for another song. What do you think about the key change?"

"A fine idea, if you can make the transition seamless. Think you can pull it off in such little time?"

"Of course I can."

The elf chuckled. "Your self-confidence never wavers, does it?"

"Not if I can help it. I don't care if I need to work late into the night. I told Aia I would deliver her a song about King Olaf's tomb, and I intend on delivering. Speaking of working into the night, what are you doing up this late?"

The Altmer shuffled his feet, then shrugged. "Just family affairs. Don't concern yourself with me, though. Focus on your work. It's late and you should aim to get some semblance of sleep for your performance."

Valentina offered the elf a sympathetic smile. "Don't concern yourself with me either. I'll be fine tomorrow. I always am. I don't mean to pry into your family business, but if you ever need to talk, you have a friend."

Falryn flashed her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, almost as though there was something sad about it. "You're thoughtful, but talking won't help me. However, I appreciate your offer."

"It's there if you need it."

"Duly noted. Goodnight, Valentina."

"Goodnight, Falryn."

The elf left her room, leaving her a bit puzzled by their exchange. She and Falryn weren't close, but she liked the elf. The Imperial hoped that he would resolve whatever troubled him.

Valentina shook those thoughts away. It wasn't her concern. She returned to her desk, grabbing her quill and her lute once more. Falryn was nice, but her success would be even nicer. The only way that was going to happen was if she got to it right away. The Imperial strummed her lute, took the Altmer's advice, and the rest flowed from there.

***

Valentina made it to Inge and Pantea's workshop right on time, her lute and her papers in her hands. The Imperial didn't want to imagine what she looked like to the other bards at that moment. She piled her hair into a messy ponytail, and she had no time to apply any powders or rouge. The clothes she wore were from two days ago, and she hadn't had a chance to give them a proper wash. At least they didn't smell bad—well, she hoped they didn't.

Her other classmates waited behind the closed door of the workshop. If Valentina had to guess, Inge and Pantea were only taking one student at a time. The thought provided Valentina with a bit of relief. Not that she minded an audience because she wanted to stick it to Aia, but it was best to give it another week. The song was already great, if she said so herself. It just needed a couple more tweaks.

"Ah, Valentina. Get any sleep?" Falryn teased.

She could ask him the same question. Despite his jovial tone, Valentina noticed there were dark circles under the Altmer's eyes. Whatever his family issues were, they were keeping him up at night. It saddened Valentina. Viarmo and Falryn both seemed like such kind people. It wasn't her place to involve herself in such matters, but she'd be happy to lend Falryn an ear if he needed it. Falryn was kind enough to help her out, and he was always welcoming.

"And here I thought my glowing complexion answered that question," the Imperial teased, and then pointed towards the door. "How are Inge and Pantea running the evaluations? One at a time?"

"And in alphabetical order," he added.

"Is there usually this much hubbub over performances?" she asked.

Aia, of course, overheard this and addressed Valentina. "Hubbub? Do you know what the purpose of this solo performance is?"

"Isn't it just a regular evaluation?" Valentina asked.

Aia blinked at her, incredulous. "Have you _not_ been paying attention in _any_ of our workshops?"

"She hasn't even been here a month. Be nice. In fact, I don't remember the deans mentioning how important the solo performances are," Falryn said.

The other bards, catching wind of the conversation, were eager to tell her about what was so special about this particular solo performance.

"So you mean you've never heard about The Bards College's Court Tour?" Ataf asked, and when Valentina shook her head, he added. "It's one of the greatest honors a student at the college can receive."

"Ah? How so?" Valentina asked, intrigued by the sound of the tour.

"Every year, the deans and the headmaster choose one promising student to perform at the Jarls' courts," Illdi said.

"All nine of them?" Valentina asked.

"Yes, all nine of them," Illdi said.

"The stakes are pretty high, though," Ataf added.

"I'd imagine that would be the case if you would be performing at the Jarl's court," Valentina observed.

"It's way more than that. If seven out of the nine Jarls give glowing praise and approve of the bard's performance, the Jarls can determine if the bard gets an early graduation. Oh, and there's an added bonus too. The Jarl of Solitude has a special honor. If they approve of the performance, it can count as _two_ approving Jarls," Ataf continued.

"That's the risk too. If the Jarl doesn't approve, it can count as _two_ disapproving Jarls," Illdi explained, and frowned. "There was one bard two years ago who got eight Jarls to approve of them. There were many who thought he was going to receive King Torygg's approval, but didn't, and didn't get his early were some who took pity on him, but to the community, he was a laughingstock."

"Ah, but that was Dorian. We all know that when I get the honor, no such thing will happen," Aia said.

Valentina rolled her eyes. Of course Aia would think that she would get it. Though, if Valentina were being honest, Aia was a good choice. The woman had an amazing voice, and Pantea was training her for court performances.

"I mean, you're not the only viable candidate here," Illdi said, and turned red. "Falryn is really talented too. I mean, we all are, but he's a natural."

Falryn smiled, which vanished as Aia snorted. "That would be nepotism at its finest. Viarmo won't put a bid for his own son. If he did, the deans would accuse him of favoritism."

The Altmer's face fell. _Nepotism? Has she witnessed any of Falryn's performances?_

"Watch your tongue," Valentina growled. "We all know that if Falryn won that honor, it would be on his own merit."

"But Aia's not wrong," Ataf turned to Falryn, a sad smile on his face. "Illdi's right. You are an absolute talent, but your father's shadow looms over. Perhaps we'll be proven wrong, though. Can you imagine having such an honor?"

"If it were me, I'd sing songs of Skyrim's glory," Jorn said, a dreamy look on his face.

"Yes, but then you'd have to stop mentioning how you want to join the Legion at every turn," Ataf teased, and Jorn's face fell a little. "This year's tour is a risky one with the political landscape."

"It is. One of the conditions is that the selected candidate must remain neutral and not speak their political views. My father and I spoke about it last night," Falryn said, and Valentina observed he still looked hurt.

"It just makes it more of a challenge. You know, Lisette did the tour last year, and she's extraordinary. A bard of her caliber could probably pull it off a second time, with the civil war raging," Jorn said, and Valentina smirked. It wasn't the first time the Nord spoke so highly of Lisette. She couldn't blame him, though. She attended Lisette's performances at The Winking Skeever before, and the Nord was gifted.

"A landscape that I can navigate with no problem," Aia added.

Valentina noticed that the pain never left Falryn's eyes as Aia continued to go on and on about what an excellent choice she would be. Truth be told, it was starting to wear thin on her too. One Imperial ego was bad enough. _Two_ Imperial egos was just intolerable. She loved making Aia upset by knocking her ego a couple of pegs. It was her favourite hobby, even winning over that time that she managed to launch a couple of spitballs at her fellow bard's head.

The tiny Imperial snorted. "That you can navigate? You get lost going to the washroom on a Sundas evening after a couple of pints. How are you supposed to navigate Skyrim's political landscape?"

Aia glared daggers at her fellow bard, and all Valentina could do was return a lazy smile in return.

"And you're assuming that _you're_ a better fit for the tour?"

"I never said that, but since you've suggested it, I do. I think I would be a fine choice."

Someone, who she assumed was Jorn, let out a low whistle.

"Come on, Val. Lay off," Ataf urged. "This is going to get messy really…"

"Oh? Because you found a lost verse in the middle of some corpses?" Aia pressed, ignoring Ataf's plea.

"I'd like to remind you that it wasn't _a_ lost verse, but _King Olaf's_ lost verse. I think that makes me at least a hint more extraordinary than you. What a tale it would make for! The same bard who found such a coveted artefact gets selected for the tour! I imagine all the Jarls already know of me. And when I make their acquaintance…"

Valentina didn't have a chance to tell the others what would happen. The classroom door opened, revealing Inge Six-Fingers and Pantea Ateia, cutting the Imperial's vaunting short. Inge was a stern-looking old Nord, her face lined with wrinkles and her hair knotted into a tight bun. Pantea, the younger of the two women, wore her blonde hair in a braid, and dressed in some of the finest clothes that the Imperial had ever seen. _That has to be silk_ , Valentina observed. _Did she get that at Radiant Raiment?_

"We're ready for you," Inge announced.

"Aia, come in first," Pantea ordered, and the two women returned into the workshop.

Aia flashed a smug smile at her fellow bards and said, "I'd tell you to wish me good luck, but we all know I don't need it."

"Break a leg, or two," Valentina quipped.

As Aia opened her mouth to answer back, the two instructors called her in again, so Aia settled on scowling at her while Valentina stuck out her tongue.

One by one, Valentina watched as her fellow bards entered and exited the classroom. She saw all of them enter with hope, and each of them leave dismayed. The Imperial imagined that all of them dreamt of becoming the lucky bard selected for the Court Tour. If Pantea doled out the harsh feedback she was known for, she would crush those dreams. The only one who hadn't seemed fazed was Aia, and even then, Valentina swore she didn't sound as proud as when she entered. There was a lot of pressure placed on this performance and they all felt it.

An important question popped up in Valentina's mind—did she care enough about the Court Tour? Sure she poked at Aia to get a rise out of her, but she didn't seriously think about the chance of going on the tour until that moment. The Imperial had to admit, the prospect of touring Skyrim's courts and performing for the Jarls would garner her a good deal of prestige, which she liked. With status came gold. She could move Yva, Drenr, and Derrik out of Ivarstead, and provide a comfortable life for them in Solitude. They would never have to work another day at the mill. Oh, and Valentina would never have to justify why she spent all of her coin on dresses, jewelry, and makeup ever again.

Valentina stared down at the sheet music in her hands. She wasn't sure if what she created was passable enough to even be considered for the Court Tour. The college was still so new to the Imperial. Would they pick her above someone who had been there longer, like Aia, Illdi, or Jorn? She chose not to let the doubts consume her. It was a longshot, but she would try. If she could get that position for the Court Tour, she promised herself she would treat herself to a shopping spree at Radiant Raiment. Oh, and she would rub it in Aia's face.

Jorn exited the classroom, crestfallen.

"How bad was it?" Ataf asked.

"They're… ah… not in a very generous mood today," Jorn explained, scratching the back of his head. "I forgot how… umm… direct they were when it came to the early renditions for the Court Tour."

"And it's your first time going," Illdi said, addressing Valentina. "Don't take what they say too hard. They might push you, but it's because they want you to grow."

Valentina scoffed. "Listen, I'm a fine bard. Nothing that they say would be terrible enough to deter me."

The others, except Aia, had pity in her eyes. They expected her to be fragile, did they? Anything that Inge and Pantea had to say about her singing or playing was probably harmless compared to what she heard growing up. The Imperial questioned whether her fellow bards had ever been told that no one wanted them or needed them because they were unworthy of love.

"By the Gods, they better give you the humbling of a lifetime," Aia grumbled.

"I hope you're humbled when anyone but you goes on the tour," Valentina answered.

When Inge and Pantea summoned her, Valentina walked into the classroom unafraid. The Imperial told herself she would be fine no matter what they threw at her. She closed the door behind her and met the two women's inquisitive gazes. She would not be intimidated, though the nerves did cause her stomach to churn a little.

"So, the new bard has her first evaluation," Pantea observed.

"What do you plan on performing for us?" Inge asked.

"A ballad about my time in King Olaf's tomb," Valentina answered.

Pantea snorted. "Oh? Profiting off your early successes?"

Valentina flashed the woman a cocky grin. "What type of bard would I be to not write about one of the grandest adventures I've ever been on?"

"Now you sound like Jorn. Start playing," Inge ordered.

Valentina cleared her throat and strummed her lute. The introduction to the piece was fine, though she heard her flaws as soon as she started singing. Her voice was hoarse from her lack of sleep, and she hadn't thought of hydrating enough before her performance. As she played, Pantea and Inge took notes. Valentina closed her eyes, pretending that they weren't there. She cringed as she hesitated at the bridge's key change. _Finish it off, and it will be what it is_ , she told herself. When she was done, she opened her eyes again, the niggling disappointment building in her chest.

When Pantea and Inge stared at her as if bearing into her soul, Valentina found the courage to ask, "What feedback do you have for me?"

Pantea was the first to speak. "Did you go to those ruins or did you just send that Companion in for you?"

"I went, of course."

"Then where is the emotion behind it? What about your sense of wonder entering the ruins? The agony at nearly losing your life? The glorious triumph?" Pantea demanded.

"Oh. Was it my lyrics?" Valentina asked.

"Your lyrics are acceptable. It's your performance that's the problem," Inge said, and pointed to the lute. "You need to tune the lute more because you're flat. I also heard your hesitance at the bridge…"

"That's the word I was looking for! Hesitant," Pantea interrupted, all the while Inge scowled at her colleague. "You stayed up late working on this. I hear the strain in your voice as you hit those notes, and I can feel your nerves. You've been swaggering about the place, boasting to my star pupil you would write an epic song based on your experience, and _this_ is what you deliver? A nervous rendition of, in your words, one of the grandest adventures you've ever been on?"

Her words stung. Valentina didn't deny that. It was prideful of her to think she could deliver such a fine song in such a short time. _Wait, so does that mean Aia told her about my song?_ All the bragging from those workshops came back to her. _Oh shit. I bragged myself into a hole._ Divines, why did she have such a big mouth?

"I mean, I thought I could pull it off," Valentina said, and Pantea glared at her. _Tone it down a notch._ To rectify this, Valentina added, "And I realize it was foolish of me to think that. Please forgive my arrogance."

"A shame it isn't well-earned. You might as well be some common tavern performer!" Pantea continued.

"Wait, what's wrong with that?" Valentina fired back.

"Valentina…" Inge warned.

"Let me answer the bardling, Inge," Pantea said. "Anyone can pick up a lute and strum a couple of notes."

"That's a bit of a reach," Inge countered.

"Is it? How many people can hum a simple tune the way an ordinary person can pluck a string or two? That's what tavern performers do. They sing simple things for common folk."

"Again, is there something wrong with that?" Valentina questioned, crossing her arms. "I was under the impression that Lisette was happy with such 'simple' company, and she's a true talent."

"And a talent wasted at that. The girl had so much potential! So much, yet she spends it with a bunch of drunks!"

"I think what my colleague wants to say is that it is fine to perform in a tavern and for simple pleasures, but you didn't come here for such simplicity," Inge said, glaring at Pantea.

"Yes, yes. Much more nicely stated, although this little bardling could use some humbling," Pantea said, scribbling some notes on her parchment. The blonde looked up at Valentina again and added, "Prove that you've earned your place here. Prove you are not just a woman who was fortunate enough to find Olaf's verse. Show that you were there. If not, I will have Viarmo reconsider your place at this college."

Valentina wanted to counter the dean's comments, but Igne said, "Better to be gracious than overconfident."

"You're right. I understand your feedback. Thank you for your time," Valentina said, and left the room.

She put on a brave face as her fellow bards spoke about their feedback, but all she wanted was some time alone to process Pantea's words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! All comments welcome <3 If you're in the mood for something a little darker/more serious, I have my other longfic which was updated today, [The Harbinger's Blood](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25983958). If you're interested, feel free to check it out!


	4. The Solo Performance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The chapter where Valentina's humbling continues.

Valentina was in her room, plucking at her lute with a glass of spiced wine next to her. Nothing sounded right. Pantea was right. The entire piece sounded emotionless and drab. The epic key change was about as exciting as a funeral dirge, and even her lyrics were lifeless. She put down the lute and drank some spiced wine. The Imperial was so sure that Pantea's words wouldn't hurt her. For all the terrible things she had been told before Yva and Drenr took her in, she thought she would have thicker skin. Instead, she felt like parchment, flimsy and torn.

She stared at the lyrics again. At least they were passable according to Igne, and Pantea said little about them. Then again, it's not like Pantea was generous about anything else. A tavern performer! There was nothing wrong with that, yet the dean meant it as an insult.

Someone knocked at her door.

"Come in," Valentina called out.

The door opened, revealing Falryn behind it. He held up a sweetroll.

"I forgot I owed you one, didn't I?" she asked.

Falryn gave her a small smile. "No. I brought it for you."

"Ah. Come on in. I have an extra seat and some extra wine," Valentina said, motioning towards the small table at the corner of her room.

Falryn entered the room and took a seat. Valentina served him some wine. He sipped his drink in silence while Valentina was trying not to down the sweetroll in one gulp. She forced herself to eat during supper to keep up appearances, and her appetite only opened up again at the sight of the treat. She loved a good sweetroll, and Solitude had some of the finest cooking in Skyrim. _Although nothing beats Yva's sweetrolls._

"Are you alright?" Falryn asked.

"Mhmm," Valentina answered, swallowing the sweetroll before answering, "Why?"

"You said nothing at supper, but I can tell that whatever Pantea told you got underneath your skin."

"No, not really," and when Falryn quirked a brow, she added, "Fine. A little. She got under everyone's skin. I'm no different."

"I'll tell you what she told me if you share first," Falryn said.

"Apart from telling me I shouldn't embarrass the college at the performance next week, mentioning that I'm not some tavern performer, and that I sounded emotionless? Not much."

Falryn's face scrunched. "Ouch. And I thought my 'nepotism can only get you so far' comment was bad enough."

Valentina's eyes widened. "She said that?"

"Why are you so surprised? Aia said the same thing today."

"Because that's cruel."

"It's nothing I haven't heard before," Falryn admitted, frowning. "I try not to let it get to me, and you shouldn't let Pantea's words get to you either."

"That doesn't make them right, or fair."

"Perhaps, but don't we level similar comments to our fellow bards so that we don't become complacent?"

"I guess, but I hate the woman insinuating that things common people do and like aren't valuable. Maybe that's just me, though."

Valentina laid her palm open for Falryn, pointing to a scar running down her index finger with her other hand. "See this? I got it when I was twelve. I had my first lute, a dingy thing some seedy merchant sold to my parents as he was passing through my town. There was a bard in Ivarstead, Elya. She'd perform at the Vilemyr Inn, and she taught me a few things here and there when I wasn't helping my parents. I'd practice whatever she showed me. My father once invested in wax earplugs just so he wouldn't have to listen those awful months when I was first starting."

Falryn chuckled, and Valentina grinned. She remembered Drenr's barbs. _Where is that cat you've been skinning? I heard that moose mating in your room the other day._ Yva would tell him to hold his tongue, as if worrying that Valentina was so sensitive. The Imperial never took offence. She thought it was hilarious. But, for all of his teasing, Drenr never discouraged her, not even once. Sometimes, when he could afford it, he would buy her sheet music.

"So that came because of practice?" Falryn asked.

Valentina snorted. "It did. One night, Elya challenged me with one of the hardest pieces I had ever played. She promised if I performed it without a mistake within a month's time, she would get me some mead."

"What? So young?"

The Imperial's grin widened. "It was apple mead. My parents kept insisting I was too young to have any, and I kept whining about it to Elya. So she decided to shut me up. Anyway, I practiced night after night, and sometimes my fingers would bleed. My parents didn't understand why I was ruining my fingers. They thought it was my pride. I just wanted the mead, and… it was my pride too. This one here," Valentina said, wiggling her index, "happened after I was frustrated and dug my fingers into the lute. It hurt like all Oblivion."

"Did you get the mead after all?"

"Oh I did. I wasn't able to do anything the next day, but then, I didn't know what else I expected." Valentina sobered, thinking back to Elya. "It was a perfect performance, but Elya reminded me it wasn't the hardest piece I would come across. Every piece, whether it's meant for a Jarl or for a crowd at a tavern, has its complexity. Sometimes, the simplest things get the point across. My point is, tavern performer or court bard, it doesn't matter. We're all, mostly, united by the same love. There's no point in discriminating. I wouldn't be where I am if it weren't for Elya's help."

Falryn smiled. "It sounds like you've had supportive mentors in your life."

"I have. It hasn't always been easy, but I'm grateful to those that I love, and how far they've gotten me," Valentina said.

"Hmm, that has me thinking. You said that Pantea called your performance emotionless, right?"

"She did and… oh! Are you suggesting what I think you are?"

"It depends. What do you think I'm suggesting?"

"Channeling all my rage into one song and making a scathing verse about Pantea?"

Falryn's eyes widened, and he exclaimed, "No! No! Please tell me you're…" Valentina started laughing, and the Imperial heard him let out a sigh of relief. "Oh by the Gods, you almost gave me a heart attack!"

Valentina laughed harder. Just because she liked Falryn, it didn't mean that she wouldn't subject him to _some_ of her antics. And oh! The look on his face. Completely worth it, if she did say so herself. _He's right up there with Vilkas on how easy it is to get him exasperated!_ She wondered how he was doing anyhow and… oh, right. The performance.

"Okay, I'm calm now. What did you want to suggest?" Valentina asked, sweet as ever.

Falryn snorted. "About time. I might have something to help you with your performance. Why don't you think about performing for the people you love?"

"You mean invite them?"

"If you wanted to. Just picture yourself performing for them. Pretend that everyone else doesn't exist. What would you want them to feel if they were there?"

"That's… not a bad idea. It might make the difference."

"It might. They might even consider you for the Court Tour after all."

"I think I lost my chance at the Court Tour," Valentina acknowledged, a sad smile on her face. "But you're such a wonderful bard, Falryn. If there's anyone at this college that deserves that chance, it's you."

"Valentina…"

"I don't think it matters that you're Viarmo's son. You have your own merit. It's not where we come from that defines us, but what we do. And I fully believe, with or without your father, you are extraordinary."

If Valentina thought the compliment would cheer him up, she was wrong. The Imperial couldn't parse the elf's expression. There was something there that looked like anger. _Does he not believe in his own talent? Or has he been told so often that the reason he is so good is because he's Viarmo's son?_ The guilt settled in. She hadn't meant to trigger such a negative response.

"I feel like I've offended you. If I have, please forgive me. I meant well," Valentina explained, yet it was inadequate.

Falryn flashed her a joyless smile. "I see that. All I'll ask you is to not make things harder than they already are."

"What do you mean by that?"

His smile was cryptic. "Best you don't understand. I'm glad I helped you, Valentina, and I'm wishing you all the luck you need to practice."

Falryn left the room, leaving Valentina confused. She thought of chasing after him and badgering him with questions, but she suspected she wouldn't get any answers. Falryn didn't deny she offended him, and she repeated her words again. Did he think she wasn't sincere? If so, how? She gave him no reason to doubt her.

The sweetroll burned her stomach. Nothing was sitting well with her.

***

Little happened in the days leading up to the performance. In fact, everything was almost normal. Her fellow bards all spoke about the performance at the burning of the effigy, and all the improvements they made. Aia, being Aia, was certain that she would get that year's Court Tour spot, and Valentina didn't have it in her to challenge it. It might be good to have Aia away from the college for a couple of weeks. Maybe she could even take her room.

The one thing that didn't go back to normal was her friendship with Falryn. The Altmer was cordial enough with his classmates and still participated in workshops as usual. Every time Valentina approached him, his answers were polite, never engaging in conversation for too long with her. It stung her. It wasn't as if they were close, but she appreciated his help and his company. The only thing she could do was let him be.

Valentina was alone in her room the night before the performance, contemplating the Altmer's advice. She was almost done practicing. As a reward, she opted for tea with honey instead of wine. The piece sounded great, but she still wasn't quite able to nail what Falryn told her to do. Every time she tried to incorporate some sort of heart into her lyrics, it fell flat. _If Falryn were with me, he'd tell me why it isn't working._

Wait. Why wasn't it working?

The Imperial picked up her lute again, trying to picture her family in the audience. Her fingers stiffened and her voice faltered. Her family would look at her with pitiful eyes, and tell her that she tried her best, but that some things couldn't be helped.

 _I'm scared of messing up this performance, and of getting kicked out, and disappointing my parents._ No, that wasn't right. In fact, the worst part of returning to Ivarstead would be that Yva and Drenr wouldn't be angry at her. They would embrace her with open arms, and she loved them for it. But her pride would never allow her to live a poor performance down. If she didn't perform well, it was proof that she hadn't deserved her place at the college, and that Pantea was right. That was an unsettling thought.

She once told Vilkas that she was worried that her fellow bards would sabotage her, and she almost laughed at the irony. None of the other bards would ruin this for her. Valentina would ruin this for herself with her nerves. _How odd to want something so badly, get it, then feel nervous about it._ Valentia sighed, irritated with herself. She hated brooding. It was not becoming of her, and it was not productive. What she needed was a solution, not self-loathing.

The Imperial unlocked the trunk in her room and pulled out a satchel. Drenr, Yva, and Derrik always teased her about having expensive tastes and enjoying the finer things in life. Valentina loved pretty dresses and lavish jewelry as much as the next woman. But there were some things that she held close to her heart, and they all fit in that satchel.

She grinned looking at each object. One of them was the first gift Derrik ever got her. Well, it wasn't much of a gift. It was an old rusty Septim her little brother found at the bottom of the river, but she thought it was the sweetest thing. She wouldn't tell him that, though. The little brat could be so annoying. Another was the first gift Yva gave to her. It was a pendant of Mara that had been passed down from generation to generation. "You are my daughter, regardless of whether I gave birth to you." Those two things warmed her heart so much, and they filled her with love.

The last object was a small token from a boy who had faith in her when she didn't have it in herself. She was just a girl herself, young and jaded. The boy gave her a pebble that was a little bigger than her pinky nail. He handed it to her with a warm grin on his face, promising her it was special. When Valentina insisted it was just a pebble, he wasn't fazed. "It doesn't look special, but it is. When you're a bard, it'll bring you luck." Valentina wanted to be sharp with him, but she couldn't. Not when his smile reached his grey eyes. He was sincere, and she never forgot that. There were many times throughout her life where she found herself lost and hopeless, yet his token was there when she needed it the most. From what she saw, that boy grew up into an extraordinary man—a man who wouldn't look in her direction.

So, she was nervous for the performance, and that was normal. The Imperial didn't want to disappoint herself, or others. If she dug deep enough, she knew she could pull it off. She had always known. Sometimes she wavered on her path, and that brought her trouble, but her dream of becoming a bard never vanished. Even if the performance didn't go the way the college didn't want, it didn't matter. Valentina would continue performing, even if she was just a "mere tavern performer." Still, she swore she would give this performance her all. It didn't matter if the man with the grey eyes and her family weren't there. She would pour her heart into it like they were.

The burning of the effigy happened the following night, the people of Solitude excited to witness another reenactment of The Burning of King Olaf. Evette was there selling her spiced wine and Bendt with his array of sweet treats. And, of course, her fellow bards performed their solos in front of the crowd. They went in alphabetical order again, though not just with Pantea and Igne. This time, Giraud Gemane and Viarmo were there, with Lisette as an honorable guest.

Jorn took his place next to his fellow bards once he finished his performance, and Valentina knew Viarmo would call on her at any moment.

"Good luck out there," Illdi whispered.

"Yeah. Knock their breeches off," Ataf added.

"And sing with passion," Jorn said.

For the first time in days, Falryn nodded and added, "You'll do well out there."

"Thank you," she whispered, and looked to Aia.

"Don't expect me to add anything," the other Imperial said, and Valentina scowled.

"That's not fair! I wished you luck!" Valentina retorted, still trying to keep her voice low.

"You also said that you would be okay if I tripped on my dress!"

"I was teasing… sort of!"

"And now, I'd like to give a warm welcome to our last performer and the brave bard who recovered King Olaf's lost verse," Viarmo announced. Valentina and Aia ceased all arguing, with Valentina sticking out her tongue at the other Imperial. Before Aia got a word in, Valentina made her way in front of her audience.

"My colleagues told me you've written a verse about your time retrieving Olaf's lost verse," Viarmo said.

Valentina flashed him her best smile. "I have. As I told Deans Pantea and Inge, I wouldn't be a good bard if I didn't write about my experiences."

"Very well then, the floor is yours."

The deans, headmaster, and Lisette eyed her expectantly, waiting for her to strum her lute. Valentina took a deep breath and reminded herself that she could do this. She pictured her family watching her, and the boy from all those years ago. No, not the boy. The man. And with that, she played.

_There once was a bard who set on a quest_

_With a noble Companion at her behest._

' _Twas a pair so mismatched it seemed a huge jest_

_That left the Companion more than distressed._

_They sought Olaf's verse and went to his tomb,_

_They entered unknowing of what dangers loomed._

_And lo! The pair had their first test_

_As the dead stirred awake from their centuries' rest._

Valentina sensed the crowd's attention on her, cheering as she recalled the many encounters she and Vilkas had in the tomb. Truth be told, she shuffled around the events, like Svaknir telling them that the lost verse was in Olaf's burial chamber, and that he would help defeat them. She also excluded the fact that she was terrified the entire time, and that the smell of old, musty draugr was enough to make her want to gag. And, of course, she neglected to mention the lute, still not wanting to rouse anyone's suspicions.

When she hit that bridge and the key change, it was electric. This was the part that would win them over, if she hadn't won them over before. She knew because she spent all her time crafting it, scrapping the lyrics over and over again until it was perfect. Vilkas might not have known it, but that encounter with Olaf was one of the few times she had ever felt so afraid and emboldened. A deep-rooted terror had taken over her at seeing her companion fall to Olaf's shout, but it spurred her into action. That was what she wanted them to experience; the height of dread and glory, all mixed into one.

She recounted the triumphant moment that she and Vilkas found the verse in Olaf's coffin which, while a stretch of the truth, was more exciting than finding it next to Svaknir's corpse. And as she concluded her song, she slowed down her strumming, addressing the crowd.

"And thus concludes my adventure with one of the bravest Companions. Let it be known that Vilkas the Valiant assisted me in my task. Spread his name like fire and let all remember that our teamwork allowed us to achieve such a feat," she finished.

And the audience roared with applause. It was deafening, almost like thunder, and Valentina hardly believed it was happening at first. Viarmo was on his feet, with the deans following suit. She didn't realize that her eyes watered until the tears hit her cheeks. Every nerve sang, every inch of her was alive. Never had she written lyrics that provoked such feelings from her until that moment. Few things rendered Valentina speechless.

As soon as the celebrations ensued, Valentina's classmates bombarded her with compliments.

"I never thought that someone singing about retrieving an old verse would be so riveting!" Ataf exclaimed.

"It's like we were there with you there with you, fending off the draugr at every step!" Jorn added. "I'm telling you, friend, you'll go down in history as one of the finest bards this college has had."

"If they don't pick you for the Court Tour, they'd be fools," Illdi remarked.

"It was passable," Aia said through gritted teeth.

For the first time since Valentina met the other Imperial, Aia was seething. Valentina swore she heard her classmate's disappointment. Aia must have been so sure that she would be the one going on the Court Tour. In the strangest way, Valentina's heart went out to her. The Bards College was so competitive, and she realized that all the bards clamored for that chance to go on the Court Tour. She couldn't imagine what it was like having some newcomer possibly rob you of an opportunity—not that it was assured, but that was beside the point. Valentina was now a threat, another source of competition.

Putting her pride and her taunting aside, Valentina said, "There's no guarantee that I'll go on the Court Tour, Illdi. I'm still such a recent addition to the college that it might be a risk." Valentina extended her hand to Aia. "Your performance was exquisite. You would be an excellent choice for the Court Tour."

"I don't want your platitudes," Aia sneered. "Now if you excuse me, I have better things to be doing than standing around while you all celebrate some burning straw."

Aia walked away in a huff. Valentina didn't bother catching up with her. It was Aia's problem. Valentina may have staked the challenge, but Aia was foolish to not acknowledge what would happen if Valentina succeeded.

Illdi laid a hand on Valentina's shoulder. "Don't let her get to you. She's just upset that they won't pick her. Right, Falryn? Wait, Falryn? Hey, wasn't he here just a second ago?"

Valentina scanned the festival for Falryn and found him talking to his father. Viarmo was excited about something, waving his hands, looping his arm over his son, with a huge grin on his face. If Valentina didn't know any better, she would swear that Viarmo was praising his son on his performance or offering him the Court Tour position. One glance at Falryn told Valentina that Viarmo's exuberance had nothing to do with his son. It was the first time she had ever seen the younger Altmer look so displeased. While he had a polite smile on his face, letting his father ramble on, his golden eyes averted his father's gaze.

A few seconds later, Viarmo patted his son on the back and left to talk to Professor Gemane. The smile faltered on Falryn's face, replaced with a stony expression. Valentina excused herself from her fellow bards and grabbed a sweetroll from Bendt's stall, approaching the Altmer.

"Oh, hello Valentina," he said. What might have sounded friendly to anyone else felt so cold to her, though she couldn't pinpoint why.

"Hello yourself, Falryn. You did a fine job with your solo tonight," she said.

He gave her a wry grin. "Nowhere near as fine as you. My father will give you an earful later about how wonderful you were."

"I couldn't have done it without your advice. I know it's not much, but consider it a thank you, and a debt repaid," the Imperial said, handing him the sweetroll.

For one instant, she was sure that she saw what looked like gratefulness in the Altmer's golden eyes. It pleased Valentina, and she hoped they could reconcile, until he threw the sweetroll onto the ground, stomping on it. All thoughts of reconciliation vanished.

"What the fuck was that for?" Valentina demanded.

"I told you not to make things harder," Falryn growled, as if that explained everything.

"What does that mean?"

"This!" he said, motioning between the two of them. "This is what I meant by not making things complicated."

"How am I making things complicated? You're the one who just tossed a perfectly good sweetroll to the ground!"

"Leave me be," Falryn warned, and stalked off somewhere, leaving the Imperial even more puzzled than she had been a few days earlier.

She didn't understand it. Falryn had always been kind to her, and she liked him. Valentina knew she did nothing wrong, for once. _There's no sense in harboring guilt_ _for something that isn't your fault._

"Now _there_ is my favorite bard!" Valentina heard someone exclaim.

Viarmo approached her, beaming, with Professor Gemane by his side. The pride should have swelled in her chest and gotten to her head, like it always did, but it left her feeling a twinge of guilt, though she wasn't sure why. Valentina returned his grin, masking her discomfort, and saying, "You flatter me, Headmaster. How can I help you?"

"I've been looking into the lute that the Companion found at Dead Men's Respite," Professor Gemane said.

"Oh, that's exciting. Have you discovered anything new?" Valentina asked, not feeling quite as excited as she should have been.

"Not much, truth be told. The Jarl's court wizard, Sybille Stentor, agrees that the lute has some sort of magic, though she can't seem to trace what it is. I scoured our records and there's nothing about your particular lute. However, it appears that there are enchanted instruments that are on record. Some were said to be enchanted by wizards and others tricked by daedra," Giraud answered.

"How can we find out more?" Valentina asked.

"I wrote to the College of Winterhold and they're willing to take a look for us. However, they would need someone to deliver it to them, someone we can trust."

"I could make the trip to Winterhold, if you wanted," Valentina said.

The Dean flashed her a kind smile, then turned to Viarmo and asked, "Will you be the one to tell her?"

"What Professor Gemane and I are saying is that you can deliver the lute to Winterhold, if you'd like. After all, you'll be going there in a few weeks to perform," Viarmo said.

She was? She wasn't planning on going to Winterhold. Unless…

"Wait… are you saying that…" Valentina sputtered.

"Yes. You're going to be the one going on the Court Tour," Viarmo said.

All her guilt eased away and a massive smile tugged at her lips. She was ready to delve into a self-congratulating spiel about how she knew she could do it. She was rather brilliant when she wanted to be, after all. And did they see how the crowd reacted to her? Who _wouldn't_ pick her for the tour? Not to mention…

Inge's words came back to her. It was better to be gracious than overconfident. It took the bard every bit of restraint she had to hold back a squeal, and stuff the urge to gloat somewhere deep inside of her.

"I...it…this is so unreal. Th-thank you," Valentina said.

"Don't thank us! Your performance was astounding! The music! The lyrics! The emotion! All the elements of a perfect song!" Viarmo praised.

"Don't let my colleagues know, but Inge complimented your performance at the bridge, and Pantea claims you have quite the voice. That's no small praise," Giraud said.

Valentina grinned. Of course they would. They would be soulless to not come around after that performance. She was just about to comment when a new voice added, "I'd like to offer you my personal congratulations as well."

Lisette appeared, offering the Imperial a glass of wine. "Your performance was breathtaking and inspiring. In fact, I'd like to propose something to you."

"Already getting offers, eh?" Viarmo teased, nudging the Imperial.

"I think you'll quite like it too, Viarmo. Your song is excellent, Valentina, and I was thinking that we should start spreading it around Skyrim," Lisette suggested. "Why don't you perform it at The Winking Skeever sometime this week? After that, you can teach it to me. I have enough connections from my time during the Court Tour that can get it across all of Skyrim in a matter of weeks."

Valentina's tears almost spilled. Her song, being played throughout all of Skyrim. What an honor. It was all happening so fast, and yet it all felt so right. This was her dream, the thing that kept her going when she was discouraged. No matter how lost she was, she believed in her dream. It wasn't just a dream anymore—it was a reality.

"Yes. Absolutely yes," Valentina said, and raised her glass.

"To your fame!" Lisette toasted.

"And to a new adventure!" Valentina added, clinking their glasses.

The Imperial promised she would write to her family straight away and let them know. Maybe she owed Vilkas a letter too, although she could go see him while she was in Whiterun. That gave her an even better idea, but there would be time to work out the details later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments welcome <3
> 
> Coming up next week: Farkas takes over narrating, and we see just how much Valentina's song has affected the Companions...and Vilkas mainly, much to his chagrin XD


	5. The New Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life has changed at Jorrvaskr, and so has Farkas. However, a new job comes in, offering both him and Vilkas the chance for another new adventure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So before you read on, I have to credit my inspiration for giving Farkas a serious girlfriend/having them split up, which is PoeticAnt44's [Get Over It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890370/chapters/64925047). I love all of the Impulsive stories, and I'm sure those of you looking for some good old fashioned smut will appreciate it too! 
> 
> Alright, without further ado, please enjoy the next chapter!

"And thus ends the noble tale of the Companion and Bard who were courageous enough to find King Olaf's lost verse," Mikael concluded, and the tavern roared with applause. Throughout the last month, the song became a favorite amongst its patrons. Farkas went to The Bannered Mare often enough to notice that someone requested the song at least twice in the same night. He had to admit, it was a godsdamned catchy song, and even he hummed it every once in a while.

The Nord glanced at the hooded figure next to him. While Farkas didn't mind the song, his twin had a different experience. It hadn't been so bad at first. That bard who asked for Vilkas' help credited him for his part at Dead Men's Respite, naming him "Vilkas the Valiant." Vilkas already enjoyed some level of recognition in Whiterun as a Companion, but the song propelled him towards fame that he wasn't able to fathom. Innkeepers offered free drinks, meals, lodgings, or all three when Vilkas arrived, and everyone clamored for his attention. Not to mention, the fame brought him more women. Though Vilkas denied it, Farkas suspected his twin enjoyed the perks at first.

That changed when the fame started interrupting life at Jorrvaskr. It seemed like the attention was a good thing for the Companions. It brought them more recruits, and it pleased Kodlak that so many wanted to join their ranks. However, for the few good ones they found, there were dozens of failures and frauds. Some used it to get closer to Vilkas, and one fervent woman tried getting into his chambers.

It worsened after that. Vilkas couldn't go anywhere without getting recognized, and Farkas saw his brother grow wary of his fame, then resentful. The Imperial bard brought Vilkas fame, but it also turned his life upside-down. Hence the hood, and hence why his twin was brooding twice as much, if such a thing was possible.

"I'm telling you, I should have never retrieved that verse," Vilkas muttered.

Farkas snorted, clapping his brother across the back. "That's not what you were saying when you had half of the population in Whiterun drooling all over you. Besides, your bard friend had her heart in the right place. She just wanted you to give the glory you deserve."

"Sure. That's what it was. That woman's goal was to torture me all the way from Solitude."

Farkas shrugged and finished his mug of ale. It was better not to argue with his brother when he got into one of his moods. Still, Farkas could see where his twin was coming from. It was a lot of attention, but he was sure the Imperial woman hadn't meant to torture Vilkas. There was something that was bothering him about that woman, though.

"Hey Vil?" he asked.

"What?"

"The bard, what was her name again? Her full name, I mean."

"Valentina Iantha Dravinius. Why?"

"Is there anything… I dunno… strange about her?"

"Strange? Where do you want me to start? The woman is the biggest chatterbox I've ever met and…"

"I don't mean that sort of strange. It's just… I dunno. There's something about her. I can't put my finger on it. Strange isn't the word I'm looking for," Farkas admitted, scratching the back of his neck. He was so bad with words.

"There is no other word to describe her," Vilkas grumbled.

"Describe who?" a new voice asked.

Farkas sucked in his breath as soon as he heard that voice. There she was in all of her beauty. Isalla was nothing short of gorgeous, and Farkas was sure she was Dibella incarnate. The Nord had honey-colored hair and smouldering hazel eyes. And her body… Farkas tried to shake the thoughts away from his head. He had to. Isalla made it clear all those weeks ago that they were over.

"Oh, uh. Hi, Isalla," Farkas croaked. What was it about the woman that always left him so tongue-tied?

"Who's your friend there?" Isalla asked, pointing to Vilkas.

"Uh, no one?" Farkas lied.

"Who the fuck do you think it is?" Vilkas growled.

The woman flashed his twin a coy grin. "Are you hiding from all the women and men dying to give you attention, Vilkas?"

Even underneath the hood, Farkas pictured Vilkas was scowling at the woman as his twin asked, "And what brings you back to Whiterun?"

"I'm in town to visit my sister before I go back to Rorikstead. I wanted to come to the inn first, see some familiar faces," she answered, so earnest that Farkas almost believed it.

"You're full of it," Vilkas growled. "We both know that you came back here to torment my brother. Unfortunately, you're wasting your time. My brother is over you. He found himself a wonderful woman."

Farkas' eyes widened. What in Oblivion was Vilkas doing?

Isalla let out an easy laugh, not believing his twin's lie. "Oh? Why don't you tell me more about this woman of yours?"

"She's… umm…" Farkas stammered, and Isalla's grin widened in amusement.

"Intelligent," Vilkas cut in, saving Farkas from any explanations. "Intelligent, charismatic, and courageous."

"Oh? You found yourself a fine Nord woman?"

"Uh, no?" Farkas said.

Vilkas scoffed. "Forgive my brother. He means he found a lovely Imperial."

"An Imperial? I would have never pictured it," Isalla said, and then raised her voice. "What a fine tale, Vilkas! I'm sure everyone would love to hear about how you found the verse from your own lips!"

The tavern grew quiet and everyone turned to Vilkas. Vilkas cursed at Isalla as a group of adoring fans came his way. Farkas wanted to help him out, but Isalla whisked him to a table at the back of the inn where few eyes pried. He could have protested more, and he should have, but a part of him wanted a moment alone with his former lover.

"Finally, I have you all to myself," Isalla said, sitting on his lap.

"I don't think this is a good idea," Farkas protested, but she placed a finger on his lips.

"I just want to talk. Nothing more. When did you meet your Imperial woman?"

"Uh… well…" Farkas was about to tell her the truth, and he heard Vilkas scream at him in his head. _I go out on a limb for you and this is how you repay me?_ Not only did he not want to be at the receiving end of his brother's wrath, but he knew Vilkas lied to help him. So, he played along with it.

"We, uh, met a few weeks ago. She asked for help with a job and we kind of hit it off from there," Farkas answered. He hoped she didn't notice how his breath hitched as she ran a hand down his chest.

"Oh? Is that so? I'd love to meet her the next I'm in Whiterun," Isalla said.

"Guess you'll just have to be there when she is," Farkas said.

She laughed. Isalla wasn't naïve enough to believe that. Farkas was so sure he was going to marry her one day. He enlisted her sister's help in purchasing a ring for her. Whether it was fate or the Divines' twisted sense of humor, she broke up with him as soon as he purchased it. Isalla claimed she was bored with him and wanted to explore her options.

Three months passed since that day. Though the pain grew easier to live with, it was always there. He lost his anger towards her early on. He didn't have it in his heart to hate her. Farkas tried, but he always got angry at himself. Maybe he was boring and bland. Everyone at Jorrvaskr always called him "too nice" or thought he lacked intelligence.

The others at Jorrvaskr encouraged him to get over her by finding someone else, even if it was for a night. Though he never had problems attracting women, being Vilkas' brother meant that more women wanted him. Torvar, being Torvar, explained it as "the second best fuck;" if women couldn't bed Vilkas, they would bed his twin. Farkas turned his nose up at the idea, deciding he was worth more than being "Vilkas' twin" or "the second best fuck." It didn't stop him from winding up with one or two of them in his bed, but it never felt right the way it did with her.

"I've missed you," she said, her breath tickling the shell of his ear.

Farkas breathed in her scent, sweet as a lily. No one was good as her, and no one smelled as good as she did. He missed her. He missed her so much that he ached. If she wanted something more exciting, he would do that for her. He was willing to tend to her needs and remind her of how good they were together. _No, stop this now. She made her choice. Don't give into her whims._

"Isalla, stop," Farkas ordered.

"Oh, sorry. Thinking about your Imperial woman?" she teased.

"Does it matter? You're the one who wanted nothing to do with me after we broke up."

This didn't deter Isalla. Her fingers trailed down his chest, hovering above his waistline. "I've done a lot of thinking. I was wrong to call you boring."

"Oh?" he asked, trying to keep his voice firm. The woman's touch always shattered his resolve.

"I'm not looking for anything serious, Farkas. All I'm saying is that if you want to relive old times, I'll be for another two nights."

He pictured taking her then and there. If Isalla thought he was boring, he would make her reconsider that. He'd fuck her fast and have her writhing under his touch in moments. She was always so responsive to him. He still remembered all the little things that turned her on. His cock grew hard, and he was sure she felt it. But he didn't act on it. He wanted a life with Isalla, and she tossed it away. He offered to work things through with her, and she didn't care to try. There was no way he was going back to that.

"It's not happening," Farkas said, nudging her off of him.

She sighed and got up, giving him a rueful smile. "Perhaps not tonight, but reflect on it. We were good together."

"We were good together until you ruined it."

He grabbed Vilkas away from his fans and exited The Bannered Mare. When Vilkas questioned his twin's exchange with Isalla, Farkas shut down the conversation. He didn't want to relive the temptation or the pain that came with being around her. Farkas knew most people thought he was stupid, but even he wasn't stupid enough to risk the same thing happening over again.

They entered Jorrvaskr and found all the Companions sitting around the banquet table. None of them were drinking ale. In fact, they were all serious, and even Torvar was sober. A pit grew in Farkas' stomach. Something was not right. _Is it the Silver Hand?_ Farkas wondered, but if it was, what were the whelps doing awake?

"Uh, hello. Shouldn't you all be asleep?" Farkas asked.

"Take a seat, both of you. We have a serious matter to discuss," Kodlak answered.

Farkas and Vilkas shared a look, unsure of what was going on, but did as their Harbinger commanded.

"What seems to be the problem, Harbinger?" Vilkas asked.

"Your fans have taken it too far this time," Aela snapped.

"Ysmir's beard," Vilkas groaned, burying his face in his hands. "What did they do now?"

"One of them thought I was your lover and tried to pick a fight with me."

"What? What did you tell her?" Farkas asked.

"I didn't have to say anything. I sent her sorry ass to the Temple of Kynareth," Aela declared.

"Aela!"

"She had a dagger on her! What was I supposed to do? She could have done the same to any of your other shield-sisters or brothers."

Ria nodded. "A few women have approached me about being your lover too. It gets uncomfortable real quick."

"And when they're not violent, I can't shove them away," Njada grumbled.

"Not only that, but they're making training the whelps impossible," Skjor added, pointing to Torvar, Athis, and some newer recruits. "These ones can't seem to keep it in their pants."

"Hey! That's not true!" Torvar insisted.

Athis blushed. "Some of them are rather attractive."

"You see what I have to deal with?" Skjor grumbled.

"What your shield-siblings are telling you is that your newfound fame has brought many of them discomfort," Kodlak said, eying Vilkas sternly. "I understand you didn't go seeking this, my boy, but we cannot continue in this manner."

"Then what do you suggest I do?" Vilkas asked.

"You could have the bard write a piece slandering you. We can even pitch in," Skjor said.

"Start with his brooding," Aela snickered.

"And then go into his scowl."

"And then…"

"Alright, cut it out," Farkas interrupted. "If we get the bard to write a song bashing him, it can go the other way. What if we get more people that want to harass Vilkas?"

"Aye. I hate to admit it, but Farkas isn't wrong. We shouldn't underestimate the power that a song has over people. Wait… unless…" Vilkas snapped his fingers. "We persuade the bard to make something _more_ popular!"

"Hey Vil? I don't want to burst your bubble, but I don't think it's that easy to write a good song," Farkas said.

"I've known many bards who needed a lot of time to craft a decent song, yet alone a good one," Kodlak said.

"Then the only other thing we can do is wait until the craze dies down, which should be soon enough," Vilkas said.

"And if it's not? What then?" the Harbinger asked, quirking a brow.

"It should be. The verse can only remain a source of excitement for so long. If this becomes an issue, I'll contact Valentina myself. The woman is annoying, but she's clever enough to come up with a solution. In the meantime, we could have someone guarding the front and back entrances at all times."

This didn't satisfy the Harbinger, but no one could think of any other solution.

"Just as long as they don't gather to sing your song outside of the mead hall at midnight," Njada grumbled.

"Or throw their breeches at us," Ria added, shuddering. "That can't be sanitary."

"Alright, point taken. Let's draw lots and see who will take the first shift tonight," Vilkas said.

Much to their dismay, Aela and Skjor were the unlucky ones selected for guard duty. Farkas thought it was a little funny, not that he would dream of telling them that. He would have volunteered himself and Vilkas, but they both needed some time with their thoughts.

***

Despite having a couple of drinks at the tavern, Farkas still nursed some ale before he slept. That was the nice part about having a bar in his room; easy access to drinks. After all, he needed another round of ale after his encounter with Isalla.

No sooner did Vilkas appear, helping himself to one of the many bottles of ale that Farkas stored behind the bar.

"Rough day, eh?" Farkas asked.

"You can say that again," Vilkas said, taking a huge gulp of ale. "How come the one night I want to go out, we get your shitty former lover and my hundreds of fans?"

"Luck?"

"Some luck." Vilkas' expression softened as he inquired, "What happened between you and Isalla, anyway?"

"Uh, not much."

Vilkas glared at him in disbelief. "The woman had her hands all over when I caught a glimpse of you two."

Farkas's cheeks burned. "Yeah, but nothing else happened. I'm pretty sure she wanted to fuck me, though."

"You're sure? What gave it away? Was it her straddling you or the fact that she was about to stick her hands down your trousers?"

"I mean, I am sure," Farkas corrected, still feeling the heat underneath his cheeks. "I said no. It's not going to happen."

Vilkas nodded. "A wise choice. You don't deserve someone who will toss you aside the way she did. There are plenty of other women who would have you. You can even take some off my hands."

Farkas snorted. "Come on, you like the extra attention from the women."

Vilkas shrugged. "It was fun the first week, but all I want is some godsdamned peace and quiet."

"Aren't you glad you're going to be clearing out some bandits tomorrow?" Farkas teased, nudging his brother.

"With my luck, they'll recognize me and want my autograph. Then I may have no choice but to kill them."

Farkas chuckled. "Don't worry. Things will get back to normal soon."

Farkas hoped those words reassured his brother. Vilkas would always have his fame, but it would get more tolerable with time. Some other bard would come up with a catchier song, and Vilkas the Valiant would have some much deserved peace. Farkas had to believe things would be normal too. Everything still seemed strange without Isalla sometimes, but he was getting used to it. Things would calm down soon enough, and it would be like Isalla or the bard never happened.

Little did they both know how wrong Farkas was.

***

Since Vilkas was gone early that morning, Farkas took on training the whelps, including those that trained with Aela. He wasn't keen on training his shield-siblings to use daggers. Daggers were for hunters and thieves, Farkas told himself. He liked the bigger blades and the rush that came with smashing a warhammer on a feckless opponent. Then again, he wouldn't complain; Aela and Skjor were probably arranging for him and Vilkas to take on the next guard shift. This was the least he could do in return. At the very least, it would be enough for them not to complain so much.

After a busy morning, Farkas had a moment to himself in the mead hall, using the opportunity to grab lunch. As he ate, he heard Athis humming outside on guard duty. Everything was going according to plan. The Circle made it very clear that no matter how attractive any of Vilkas' fans were, there was no letting them into the mead hall, no accepting bribes or tolerating threats. The only people that the Circle allowed to enter Jorrvaskr were Companions, or those who had official business with them. From what Farkas overheard, the Dunmer was diligent and turned away several of Vilkas' fans.

He was about halfway into his meal when he overheard Athis talking to someone. Farkas paid little attention at first, though the conversation lasted longer than he thought. _Oh great. He's trying to flirt with one of them._ As he neared the entrance, he focused on the conversation.

"I understand that Vilkas is handsome and that he must be attracting a lot of attention, but I'm not one of his fans. I'm someone who needs his help," the woman insisted.

"That's what the last five said, and they had no official documents to prove it."

"I have documents right here proving who I am and what my job is."

"Mhm. Sure. And how can you assure me that those documents are not forged like the five others that have come today?"

The woman behind the door sighed. "Let's try this again. I'm truly a member of The Bards College. In fact, I'm one of the _finest_ bards the College has, and I require the Companions' help for a job. I have documents signed by Viarmo, the headmaster himself, if you require proof."

Athis laughed. "Are you aware of how many men and women have tried that line today?"

"Judging by the exasperation in your voice and that ever so snotty expression on your face, I'd say a lot. Look, I know how this works. I'll just use the backdoor."

That's when Farkas realized who it was. _It's the bard!_ The Nord opened the door and, sure enough, saw the petite Imperial glaring at Athis with her hands on her hips. He also noticed that she carried a lute on her back.

"This one's who she says she is," Farkas told Athis, whose brows shot up in surprise.

"She's a bard?" he asked.

"She's _the_ bard."

"By Azura! You're the bard who wrote that song about Vilkas! You can't imagine how many people we've gotten here in the last month!" When Farkas glared at him, Athis cleared his throat and rectified his statement. "The increase in visitors has been a lot to handle on my shield-siblings and I."

Valentina smirked. "I'm sure you're all finding that awfully hard."

"It's caused some problems, but it's not all bad… I mean, um, distracting. Very distracting," Athis said as Farkas ribbed him.

"Why don't you come on in?" Farkas asked the bard.

"That would be appreciated. Thank you, Companion. Not you," she sniped at Athis. "You can afford to be more hospitable."

Farkas found his lips twitching into a grin as Valentina followed him into the mead hall. He pulled out a chair for the Imperial, gesturing for her to take a seat.

"Ever the gentleman, aren't you?" she asked. "If only your brother was half as polite. Oh well. I'm sure he'll be thrilled to know I'm in Whiterun."

"When did you get here?" he asked.

"I just arrived today, and I figured the Companions should be my first stop after the inn." She granted him a dazzling smile. "I heard them playing my song. Nothing more wonderful than hearing your own work played, although Mikael does need to work on his rendition a bit."

"Uh, well, I don't know about that last part, but your song is good."

Valentina gave him a cocky grin. "Of course it is. I worked on it myself."

Vilkas did warn him that she was self-assured, maybe too self-assured for her own good. It didn't surprise him. Most, if not all, of the bards he encountered praised themselves and tooted themselves as the next best bard. Valentina was no different, except that while most could only dream of their fame, she was well on her path to achieving it.

"I couldn't help but note the extra security. Am I correct in guessing that Vilkas has a rabid fanbase of fans now?"

"Yeah. It's been rough on him, you know, the lack of privacy."

"Pfft! Oh, I'm sure he tells you that, but make no mistake. Your brother is secretly revelling in it. And who can blame his fans?" She let out a dreamy sigh. "He's everything you'd ever want in a hero. Handsome, brooding, and knows how to wield his sword, in more ways than one."

The innuendo was not lost on Farkas, and he was ready to change topics before this became more uncomfortable than it was. "So, uh, what were you mentioning about a job?"

"Ah right. Let's get to business. I've been selected to go on the Bards College's Court Tour this year," she answered.

Farkas smiled. "Hey. That's not half bad for someone who's been at the college for a couple of months."

He swore that he saw Valentina's chest puff up a bit as she answered, "It is quite the accomplishment. That said, Viarmo had to pull a lot of strings to make the tour happen this year. Things are much more dangerous and he and the other deans agree I need protection."

"What you're looking for is a bodyguard," Farkas asked.

"Right. It's not just for me, though, it's for this," she said, pointing to the lute. "Your brother and I found it when we were in Dead Men's Respite. I have instructions to bring it to the College of Winterhold to have them examine it."

Farkas looked at the lute. Although the Companion knew how to play a couple of chords on a lute and he could hum a halfway decent tune, his musical knowledge didn't go beyond that. This lute looked like any other instrument to him, except for the flowers. That was odd, sure, but couldn't all instruments have decorations and engravings? But, if the Bards College thought it was important to have the mages examine it, that was their prerogative.

"This might be a lot to ask, but I would like one of your ranks by my side. If I am going to travel to all these holds with an important object, I would be foolish to do this on my own," Valentina said.

"I mean, I don't see why one of us couldn't go, but it's not up for me to decide. I'd have to run it by the Harbinger. Like you said, things are more dangerous with the war. People need us."

"I understand that, but I have no doubt we'll be able to come to a favorable arrangement for everyone involved."

"That sounds fine with me. My brother should be back soon. When he's back, we can talk to him about it."

Soon after they agreed to that, an awkward silence fell between them. The seconds stretched out like minutes with neither the Imperial or Nord uttering a single word. For someone who was a supposed chatterbox, Valentina seemed quiet. She chose to fiddle with lute. Was she nervous? Strange. She seemed fine before.

"So you truly like my song?"

It was the way he said it that caught him off-guard. Her voice was so soft, almost as if she was afraid to ask the question. The swagger from earlier was gone, replaced with something more vulnerable. It was an earnest question.

"Yeah. I do. I've only heard Mikael sing it, though. I bet you have a better voice than he does," Farkas said.

Valentina blushed. "That's kind of you, Companion."

"Farkas, and I'm being honest. You should perform it here one time. It would get some of my shield-siblings to unwind."

Much to his surprise, Valentina turned redder. "I'd be honored to sing it for you… and your shield-siblings, of course," she added, a bit too hastily. "Any bard would be honored to perform in front of the Companions. I'm not an exception, obviously."

Farkas blinked. "I never said you were."

The Imperial's eyes widened in panic. "Oh no! Wait! I never meant to imply that you were and...ugh, by the Gods. I'm not just shoving my foot in my mouth, I'm eating my whole damn leg…"

The Companion just stared at her, and the bard asked, "Did I say all of that out loud?"

"Uh, yeah."

Valentina groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Forgive me. These last couple of weeks have been exhausting."

"Makes sense, I guess," Farkas said, shrugging off her strangeness. "We all know what it's like getting run down on the job."

"It hardly seems like an equal comparison. Your job is helping others, mine is entertaining them."

"Yeah, and? What you do is important. Music helps people, and so do stories."

She smiled at him. "They do. I don't know if I've done that just yet, but maybe I will one day."

"If that song is anything to go by, you're a talented songwriter. I'm sure you'll figure something out."

The Imperial beamed at him. It wasn't the cocky grin she gave Vilkas. It was more genuine than that. The smugness Vilkas claimed he saw wasn't there. He wondered just how much of that cockiness was a performance. A good bard had to be confident in their abilities, or appear confident.

All of that vanished the moment Vilkas walked through the door, carrying a burlap sack in his arms. He was scowling as soon as he entered.

"I swear to the gods that if I had that bard in front of me, I would make sure the draugr maul her," Vilkas said, dropping the bag near the entrance, and stalking off in the kitchen.

Farkas realized Vilkas hadn't seen Valentina. Valentina, finding this amusing, pressed a finger to her lips, and Farkas bit the inside of his cheeks. They both wanted to see how long it would take his twin to notice that the bard wasn't in Solitude.

"Why? What happened now?" Farkas called out, suppressing his laughter.

"The damned bandits weren't just normal thugs. They were making a profit off of me!" Vilkas exclaimed.

"Wait, how?"

"With my damned autograph! They made up their own signature and started selling signed goods!"

Valentina brought her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes. Farkas could tell she was willing herself not to laugh, and he had to look away. If he kept looking at her, he was going to crack too.

"Wait, are you joking?" Farkas asked.

"Shor's balls and Stendarr's asshole! Check the damn bag if you don't believe me!"

Farkas grabbed the sack from the door and started rummaging through its contents. Valentina peered over his shoulder, curious to see what was inside. Farkas dug into it and found a large book. The Imperial and the Nord read the title, and Valentina had to turn away from him. Well, his brother wasn't wrong. The bandits were forging Vilkas' signature, and the first object that "Vilkas" autographed was a copy of _The Lusty Argonian Maid_.

"How did you deal with them?" Farkas asked, surprised he could keep the laughter out of his voice.

"I cut them a deal; either they shut down their operation or I'd kill all of them."

Farkas watched as Valentina rolled her eyes. "I'm disappointed in you, Companion. I would have asked for a share of the profits. Fifteen percent, maybe even twenty if I was feeling ambitious."

And that was the moment Farkas was sure that things would never be the same again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! All comments welcome <3


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